Hawk
by ArouraLeona
Summary: Little is known of Levy's past. Like many Fairies, she came to the guild young, but why would such a sweet girl be left alone in the world, alone and so often with an expression touched with sadness? With Fairy Tail back on top, it appears that Levy's past has come to claim her. Can she stand up to her fears? Save her friends? Overcome evil? Gajevy **CHAP 10 UPDATE: 21/9** COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Hawk

Chapter One

Levy danced alone in her room. She was happy, though it was hard to say exactly why. Her savings had been rebuilt after the money drain that was the timeskip. That was something. She'd successfully completed two solo missions, which made her proud of herself in a way that she hadn't felt since she had been chosen for the exam.

Oh. And he loved her. Not 'like.' _Love_. He hadn't actually said anything, but she was smart enough to see it. Lu-chan had teased her about her crush for months and months, but then Lu-chan saw it, too. The teasing stopped, replaced by speculative glances and nudging elbows.

What was she going to do about it? And _when_? That was the real question. She wasn't as brave as Juvia, to be so bold with her feelings for him. But she wasn't as timid as Bisca once was, unable to look him in the eyes.

She was shy, but not so shy that it ruined her happiness. She would make her move. Until then, she would revel in the fact that he loved her. And she knew it.

She danced.

Footsteps in the hall. There were footsteps in the hall. Rushed. Some instinct slowed her joyous feet and turned her to the door.

Knocking at her door.

"Levy! Levy!" a voice – Cana's voice – yelled. Urgent. Afraid.

Happiness died, sharp, as she opened the door and saw how Cana's expression matched her tone.

"Droy's at the guild," Cana said, pulling Levy into a run. "Jet's been taken. Hurt and taken."

Levy made a sound, a mysterious sound expressing distress and confusion. "Hurt? Taken? By who?! They weren't even on a job! They were visiting-"

"Bandits. On the road, Droy said. Yesterday."

"How did Droy-"

"Thought they'd killed him. Almost did. Trader found him and brought him in. Almost dead."

"But...why would bandits take a person? Usually...goods...money..."

Cana nodded, "They demanded ransom. They know he's Fairy Tail, and everyone knows who and what we are by now."

"Jet...How much money?" Not that she'd not want to pay whatever sum was named. Or that the Master would...but...

"Not money, actually. They want a trade." Cana looked over her shoulder, "They want you."

Levy almost tripped. "Me?" She stopped. Stunned. Breathing heavier for the statement than the exercise. "_Me?!_ But why?!"

"We don't know. They didn't exactly give a reason. They pinned a note on Droy. They would trade the man, meaning Jet, for you. In two days, at the place where they took him. If any authorities are alerted, they'll kill him. If anyone other than you shows up, they'll kill him."

"Was there...was there a name?"

"No. But the letter was sealed in blue wax with the stamp of a dove."

"A...a dove?"

Cana's eyes narrowed. "You know it?"

"No," she lied. "No, I don't." She started running again, harder than before. Faster. Her muscles burned. Her heart burned.

A dove.

* * *

"You can't do it," Droy said as soon as he saw her. "It would...He wouldn't want you to do it."

The run had not been particularly long, but she had made up her mind on the way with little trouble. "I will do it," she told him and all the others gathered around his bed, placed in the center of the hall so that all the guild could be with him. "Jet is likely injured, so a solitary escape would be difficult. Were he free, obviously he could run out of their reach in an instant, but – as he hasn't come to us – he is unable to get free. I, no offense, have a much wider range of skills. I will be able to free myself."

A dove.

Her confidence was false, but necessary. She had to go. Had to.

A dove.

Gavin.

Gavin. Her brother. 'Long lost,' some might call him. But lost he was not. _Escaped_ was a better word.

Gavin would kill Jet, no matter what, if she broke the demands. There was too much of their father in him. Cruelty. Viciousness.

A dove. A dove in blue wax, his sign for her when they were children. When he still cared. Before he killed their father. Their mother. Before he tried to kill her. But she had hid, and he lost interest. Young as she was, he probably expected her to die. Probably thought she had.

Then Tenrou. The Games. All the articles and gossip.

He was interested again.

He could have taken her. Two solo missions. He must have known. Attacked her partners when she wasn't there. He knew.

But Gavin loved to play games.

Too much of their father. Hurting others to hurt your victim. Their father had hated her, hated a daughter, so he hurt her brother to terrify her and fill her with guilt. Her fault. Every drop of blood. Her fault. Gavin was older. He understood at first. She had cleaned blood off of his face and cried, while he would stroke her cheeks and tell her it was okay. He would write her letters and hide them under her pillowcase so that their father would not find them.

Sealed with blue wax and stamped with a dove.

But pain was a powerful thing. Pain beat upon him day in and day out. And eventually her brother hated her for being the reason he suffered.

A dove.

"I'm going. I'm going _alone_. Like the note said." She smiled at them, "Then you can come attempt _my_ rescue. The note makes no prohibition against that."

"But if they try to-"

She cut off Wendy, who had her small hands on Droy's shoulder. "They aren't going to all this trouble just to kill me. But they thought they killed Droy, so I don't think they'd hesitate to kill Jet if we violate the terms. I will rescue him. Then you all can rescue me."

So many facts she left out of the story. Gavin might not kill her, but he would take her far too far away for rescue. He could do that. He could teleport. Another reason for her to free Jet. There was no speed that could out-distance Gavin.

Teleportation and telekinesis. Snatch and grab and vanish. He'd turned to thievery, she had heard, after he abandoned her. But he didn't stop with thievery. He was talented. He could rip organs from inside a body and hold them in his hands. He could put such pressure on the organ, pushing it in a hundred different directions until the tissue gave way and exploded.

She'd watched her parents die in just that way.

Thievery wasn't enough to keep his interest. She knew he'd done worse. No proof, of course. She'd heard of no crime that she could connect him to, before or after Tenrou. But Gavin was Gavin, and she knew what the madness of pain had made him.

But. _But_. Gavin was an honest murderer. Disgusting phrase, but accurate. As much as she believed he would kill Jet if they broke his rules, she knew he'd spare Jet if she followed them.

"It will take a day to reach the location," she guessed. "Tell me where, then let me go pack."

Thanks to the current absence of all the S-class teams, out on jobs, the response to her command was silence instead of shouting. Gajeel would have shouted. Natsu would have shouted. Erza would have shouted. Elfman would have shouted. But they were away. Too far away to thwart her desires in this matter.

They wouldn't have let her go. Not alone. And that would be disastrous.

"We'll come as soon as you're taken," Alzack said into the quiet. She sighed; they would be rational.

"No, give me a day. Give Jet time to make it back and me time to figure out the point of this. If we don't find out _why_, then they're likely to do it again to someone else. "

"Twelve hours," Mira had apparently decided to negotiate. "Any longer and we might lose sight of you."

_One second and you'll lose sight of me_, Levy thought. _We'll be gone the moment he touches me. _

Which meant twelve hours would be okay. Surely Gavin would expect her guild to come for her, so he wouldn't fault them for doing so. Once he had his hands on her, he would abandon his pursuit of her guild.

She almost laughed. No he wouldn't. Of course he wouldn't. Not if he could twist them up, bind them and stick them with a thousand points of pain. There was no way to convince him that she didn't care for her guild, so they were all potential hostages.

She would have to keep him interested in her. And taunt him with his similarities to Father. He would know what she was doing – Gavin was no fool – but it might work regardless. Emotions did not always answer to intelligence.

Levy remembered him as hot tempered, but she hadn't seen him since she was nine. He could be a completely different man. Though, this event suggested he was much the same as the boy who tore down their parents apart, organ by organ. Skin pulled back like ripping paper from a package.

He was dangerous. He terrified her.

She had to face him.

* * *

Levy stood under the trees. Oaks. Like her hiding place, all those years ago. Likely purposeful. Gavin had never been the type to ignore symbols.

Two days, he had said, but she was willing to bet he was watching. Waiting. He'd take her, if she were to show up early. She felt that she had no time to waste. Every second that passed was a second that he could make things worse.

"I'm here, Gavin. Let Jet go, and you can have me."

"He swore to me that you wouldn't come." The voice came from above her, tucked behind a multitude of wide leafs. She saw movement, but no clear image of him. Her skin shriveled with goosebumps, having him so close to her. Hearing that voice once more. It tightened her throat and made her heart slam into her ribs.

"He wished for that," she told him, keeping her voice steady, "but he knew better."

"As I thought. Stupid."

"Optimistic," she corrected as he dropped down to stand before her. She swallowed bile. "Not quite the same thing."

"Close enough." He ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. A few shades paler than her own; blue, like the sky. Touched with soft wisps of cloud. "Hello, little sister. You look well."

She shook her head at him. "We can do this later, Gavin. I told my guild to stay away, but that's not their style. Let Jet go, like you promised, and take me before they come after us and make this more complicated than it already is."

He laughed. "So serious, dove. But surprisingly fierce. Where did that come from, I wonder."

"Life. This. Let Jet go."

"Okay, dove."

She watched as he pulled her partner from thin air. Bruised. Bleeding. No. _Bloody_, but not bleeding. Injured in the fight that took him, but not hurt after. His hair was dark and limp with sweat, and he stank of fear and stress, but he had few injuries.

He trembled when he caught sight of her. "Levy! No! You can't! He-"

"Don't talk, Jet. Run. Please. Do this for me." She didn't turn her gaze from her brother. Did not look at her friend.

"No! I can't. I can't leave. I-"

"JET!" she screamed his name, throwing the word, the force of it, at him as a wall. "Run! Do as I say!"

Gavin's pale hand touch Jet's cheek. "Do as she says. I'd hate to harm her because you were too stupid to follow the orders of your superior."

"Superior? Gavin, what in the whole of Earthland are you- Jet!"

With a wave of a hand, Gavin flung Jet what seemed like a kilometer away (but couldn't be, _couldn't_ be), arcing in the sky and landing with a sickening sound and an explosion of dirt.

"Now, dove, shall we be on our way?" His skin and hair glowed against the darkness of his clothing and the setting sun. He opened his arms to her. "It's time to go home, Levy."

And the road and oak trees and groaning Jet vanished. Leaving only her brother and the darkness that surrounded him.

* * *

**Author's Note**_**: **_

I'm testing this out. I'm not sure it will appeal to anyone. I have two and a half chapters worked out at the moment. I don't see it going more than four chapters, but I don't want to push that far if no one is interested. So... let me know what you think, please.


	2. Chapter 2

Hawk

Chapter 2

"Would you like something to eat? I don't have much, but the kitchen isn't completely empty. And it might be more … cozy for you than the courtyard, but then, I thought you might vomit. The courtyard was the safer option."

Dizzy, she fell to the ground as he continued to talk about food. She pressed her forehead to the stone and counted to ten. To her great relief – and a bit of pride – she didn't actually vomit. But she sure wanted to for a few moments.

"Your friend vomited, you know. I must say, I'm quite pleased that you held it in; though, not surprised that you outshone such a pitiful creature. How in the world can you associate with such weakness? It lessens you, dove. In the end, I suppose, Father was right to be disappointed in you."

"Father was right about _nothing_." She looked up to study her surroundings. The courtyard was bare of vegetation, and stained with dirt. She was unsurprised. "Home," she sighed, "was never this place."

"Yes, it was. Not a good home, but it was ours. Like it or not; ours."

Shifting to sit on her knees, she turned her eyes to her brother. He wasn't smiling, exactly, but there was a shadow of humor on his lips. His eyes, like his hair, were paler than hers. Brighter than hers. Almost copper and completely open. Guileless. Almost copper. Almost warm. Almost human.

"Why did you hurt my friends, Gavin? After all of these years, why have you come for me now?"

He shrugged, "It was time. More than time, but you were gone, so my plans had to be put on hold. Reworked. Then you returned, and I saw you smile. I watched as joy filled your eyes with tears for the victories of Fairy Tail. The whole world watched the Games, but all I saw was you. And so I remade my plans for a third time."

"The Games. I sat next to Jet and Droy."

"You did. And they weren't all. They were the first, but they won't be all."

"So you've turned into Father, then? You want to hurt me? Hurt me through others. That's the whole of your _why_?"

"Don't be a fool, little sister. You knew nothing about what Father was doing."

"He was hurting you and Mother and making me watch." _Making me help_, but she couldn't say that aloud. She couldn't remember that. "I might have been a child, but _that_ I understood."

Gavin snorted, an unexpectedly rude sound coming from a man with his bearing and composure. A chair appeared at his side, and he sat. "No. Father was ashamed of us. Not just you, but all of us. He … his work was to change you. The only one of us he could change. He would have made you a god. With my pain, mine and Mother's, he intended to turn you into a _god_. A god he commanded."

She stared at him, and he took great amusement at her open-mouthed shock.

"He _what_?"

"Word magic. You had it, same as him. You also had physical power from Mother, unlike him. You were stronger, or had potential for strength. Strength he couldn't take _from_ you, but if he could _command_ you, and make you more powerful in the process, then," he smirked, "that was what he would do."

"Because..."

He didn't let her finish, continuing with his story. Caught up in it; the memory. His eyes were somewhat distant, but focused when she shifted.

"Mother failed him when she birthed me, ungifted in words. He took great joy in our torment. It gave him nothing at that point, but he took joy in it. Mother was only freed of the torture when she finally delivered you, after three more failures. Did you know that? He had the deaths of our two sisters and a single brother on his hands by the time you were born. From the moment of your birth, everything was for you, dove. I didn't understand, at first. Accustomed to the pain. It didn't matter why he said the things he did. Why he did what he did, what he made you watch. What he made you do. I didn't understand that it was _for_ you. All for you."

He smiled. A twist of his left hand, and there was a pen – golden nib and ivory stem, shaped like a feather – in his hand. With graceful strokes, he wrote her name in the empty space between them. Underlined it. Then crossed it out a dozen times and brushed the fragments away.

"Then, late one night, I gathered the courage to enter his library. I read his notes. He was weak, alone. But greedy. Ambitious. He studied, and he created a spell, a series of spells, that would give him the power he desired. Magical and mundane. With every drop of my blood, Mother's blood, you became stronger. He built you up so that you might act as his weapon, and his shield."

Levy's head ached. "You are making absolutely no sense, Gavin."

"Am I not? Let me try to be clearer. Your magic is language, and language is everything. You can speak a word and _create_. You should have been in those games, where you sat and watched like an incompetent amateur."

She shook, placing the fingers of her left hand to her temple, "Solid script isn't-"

"How many other people use the magic the way you do?"

"There was a man," she insisted, since he was trying to make it sound like she was unique. She wasn't. She _wasn't_. "A man I fought, before I went missing. His script language was different, and he used an object to write. A sword. He was stronger than me!"

"Ah," he tilted his head, and the shadows that gave his lips the illusion of a smile, deepened. "Yes, I know of that creature. The man you fought on your island. With your _charming_ partner."

Her shoulders stiffened. She didn't like his tone. "He fought. My partner. I ran for help. The other solid script user was so strong that he almost beat both of us."

She flinched as Gavin licked his lips.

"I found that inferior mage after you vanished. I considered using him. It would be a lesser working without the blood connection – layers and layers of blood connections – but you were gone, and script mages are rare." He pulled skin from the base of his thumbnail and a drop of red bubbled up. "Much of his power was not his own. Ignoring the power-boosting sword, the master – Hades? – fed all of his weaker underlings a measure of strength to bind them to him. At the foundation, dove, you were the stronger. Now you are even more so.

"I was so angry at your disappearance, but had you not vanished, I would have taken you too soon."

Levy took a long breath, and straightened her spine. "You want to do this thing to me that you claim Father was attempting."

"And finally you catch up to my point. Father had several layers of control over you. Mother, me, our three dead siblings, all on his hands, but incomplete as Mother and I still lived. I, however, hold Mother. I hold Father. I hold those two sisters and one brother, through the death I willed for our father. All of those deaths, blood binding. Father's intent, his plan, was blood binding." And Gavin grinned, "But why stop at blood relations?"

He waved his hand, twisted it once more. Her heart stopped at the sight, at the body on the floor before him.

"Lily..." she crawled to the exheed, unable to draw in air. Unaware of the shrinking distance between her and the villain who opposed them. She reached out to touch the cat, small and cold. He was small and cold. His paw pads were dry. Dry, cracked. She choked. "Lily! Lily! Oh, please, please, Lily!" She pulled him from the floor and held him tight to her, putting her ear to his tiny nose.

She felt his breathing. The knot in her stomach, the opaque film before her eyes that made her whole self fill with despair, loosened, thinned. She turned on her brother.

"HOW DARE YOU!"

Pure power lashed from her in her anger, and slammed into his own. The explosion was enough to push her back half a meter.

His chair was unmoved.

And he laughed. Laughed so hard that he threw back his head; pleased with himself. His tongue was an alarming shade of red, and his teeth blindingly white. When he turned his face back to her, his copper eyes shone with giddy malice. "I was right. Perfect timing. You at the prime of your power, and me still young enough to make use of it. And such powerful friends, little sister! And weak ones, because you're far too kind, but no few of your compatriots glow with great magics. Filled with blood that will form layers and layers more of control over you, based in emotional connection, not relation. Our father... ha! Shortsighted imbecile. Impatient. Without the imagination necessary to broaden spells he barely comprehended. Well. I comprehend them. I perfected them."

"But-" she was more caught in Lily and the abrasions on her knees from the blast than she was in his monologuing. She tried to keep up, tried to stay focused on him – he was dangerous – but her hands were caught in Lily's fur. "My friends... taking my... but Jet, you let... Droy..."

"Like I would add those inferior magics to my spell. No. They were useful only for the emotional manipulation. This magic demands stronger blood. And you know blood of _such_ strength. This cat; the exheeds are interesting beings. Yet, even among such a unique species, I've seen none other with his particular abilities. A good ingredient to add to you, in your god form. We can give you wings, dove. Wouldn't you like wings?"

She held Lily closer. Trying not to hurt him, but too frightened to let him go. "What can I do," she begged, "to convince you to free him and leave the rest of my friends alone?"

"Nothing. I have you, sister, and I have them. All of them. Any of them." He snapped, and another body emerged from the nothingness.

"G-Gajeel!" her first reaction was an increase in fear, but it changed quickly. "Gajeel?" she looked at her brother in disbelief. "You … you put him in _chains_?"

"Not true chains. It amused me to take him and hold him with something he should command with his own power."

Cradling Lily in one arm, she crawled again to reach him. Ignoring the pain in her knees. She studied the man she was only a day ago dancing over. His breathing was regular, and his skin pinked with health.

"Huh. I expected you to cry upon seeing him. I overcame the strongest of your partners. The one you love best."

Heart erratic and eyes gone wide with shock, Levy didn't mistake the slight twitch in Gajeel's bound hands. She swallowed to push back the embarrassment.

"One I love best?" _Embrace it_, she told herself. _Beating him is more important than saving face. And I was going to confess soon, anyway._ "That's true, as certain loves go. But you underestimate the love I have for those men you let go, who are more brothers to me than you are."

"I could not possibly care less about those weaklings. I only want the strongest blood in you. Strongest blood, most valuable emotion and power. That is this man. I thought first, maybe the blond, but, despite your fondness for her, she is far too weak-"

"Ignoring the fact that you're continuing this trend of underestimating the people around me, it isn't strength that makes Lu-chan my best friend. It's heart. You used to know the meaning of _heart_, Gavin."

The laughter wasn't as free, this time, but it was loud. She watched Gajeel's jaw stiffen. He was conscious? Faking … entirely unlike him.

"Heart? I know it, but I have learned to scorn it. _Life_ and _death_ and _pain_ are worlds stronger than _like_ and _love_."

She sighed and stretched out a hand to run a finger over Gajeel's chains. They stung her with magic. She turned her eyes back to analyze her brother. Thirty now, but he looked no older than she did. How many other people had he taken power from to retain his youth? And to fuel a spell so strong that it would lessen Gajeel's abilities to manipulate metal, his element. Life and death and pain.

She drew back from her partner, keeping her eyes on her brother. And she softened. Her eyes, her mouth, her heart. "This is my fault," she offered. "I shouldn't have hid from you. Run from you. Hide for so many years. I should have been braver. I should have saved you. I'm sorry, Gavin. All those dreams we had of flying away. Of being birds, flying away from this place. Free. I let you suffer."

She put her hands on the chains again, dragging them over the links until she reached the lock. She could open it. Since Gavin saw the Games, she didn't understand why Gajeel found it necessary to hold back his power. Even with such strong magic, she believed him capable of breaking them, too.

Of course, she was biased. She believed him capable of pretty much anything. Well. Anything that demanded strength or stubbornness. She felt her lips curl slightly and realized what a weakness it was to show her affection in front of her brother.

But, he already knew, didn't he? So what did it matter if she shared it with him? With the whole world? She wouldn't toss Gajeel aside. She wouldn't give Gajeel away.

The lock was tight over his forearms, pulled against his back. She could see the strain it put on his muscles. Tense, and knotted. How long had he been like this? She rubbed the lock with her thumb, and slipped her hand down to hold his hand for a short series of seconds.

The power in the lock made her hand burn. Scorched her. It was the magic that made her lips burn and her feet go numb.

"_KEY_!"

Gavin chuckled derisively, "Do you even know what ke-"

The word slid easily into the lock, molding to the shape and pushing the pins into place. With a decisive _click_, she released him. Gavin was silent. Pushing the chains away, she smiled as Gajeel finally opened his eyes to her.

"Hungry?" she asked in a voice that ignored the tension around them. She dangled the chains in front of him and grinned.

"Probably taste like shit," he cleared his throat and rolled his neck, flinching as he moved. Sitting, he held his arms out to take Lily from her.

"I'd be happy to give you better. _IRON_!" After the quick movement of her hand and the rush of magic, she returned her attention to her brother. "I _am_ sorry, Gavin, for our past. But I won't be whatever it is you want me to be. I won't allow you to continue to harm my friends.

Gajeel's teeth were loud as he devoured her _IRON. _"Think it'll take more than an apology to turn this one, Shrimp. You can't make White Knights out of everyone."

"Ha! Like anyone could ever think of you as a White Knight." But she blushed slightly … she had thought of him that way, a time or two. Silly; he was no gallant story-book hero, but she had a healthy imagination.

He cradled Lily, gently brushing a hand through his fur in search of wounds. "Aw, that hurts. Think you can do water?"

"In fact," she stuck her nose in the air and crossed her arms, "in this situation, I think I'm most suited for the 'White Knight' title. _WATER_!"

He snorted while giving his cat water, drop by drop. Rubbing a little on his paws. "Like hell. You don't even have a sword. What kinda knight doesn't have a sword?"

"_SWORD_!" She stood and held the word so that the tip almost touched his nose. "You...you shouldn't underestimate me!" Raising the _SWORD_, she pointed it at her brother, who had lost all trace of amusement. "You either, Gavin! We're neither of us the kids we were then. We've changed. And you can change again. Father was a _monster_, Gavin, but you don't have to be."

He crossed one leg over the other, looking at her like she had said something appallingly ignorant. "Monster? How could such a weak bastard be a monster?"

"Yet you say you aren't weak," she replied.

"Of course I'm not."

"Which makes _you_ a monster, then? That monster Father worked so hard to become. That monster that tore apart your childhood, and your heart. Back then, being a monster wasn't your goal."

The grin returned to her brother's face, slashing across his cheeks and making her head weak with nerves. Gajeel shifted closer to her. His shoulder pressed against her leg.

"Monster? No. But _god_ has a nice ring to it. Don't you think, dove? Once I have a god of words at my command, what other word, what other title, could define me but _God, the Master of God_? What is a monster when compared to that?" He raised his hand, sparkling with power, and she swung hers to protect the man and cat beside her.

"_GUARD!_"

She felt the wrench of her brother's power against her own, and ground her teeth against the pain. The sensation was much like having her head slammed into a wall.

"_GUARD!_" she grunted a second time, strengthening her protections.

"Oh, dove. What did you think I was going to do? Send him away? Of course not. What good is he to me if away?"

"Don't be irreverent, Gavin, it doesn't suit you. You just defined yourself as something more terrible than a monster. You weren't going to send them away? Sending them away is the least you could do, and I won't let you do anything at all to them. Not the slightest little thing."

All of his humor and scorning superiority had returned to his face, and he waved, putting a plush couch behind her.

"I'm sure your boyfriend would prefer to get off the cold stone, and I can see your hand is beginning to tremble under the weight of that 'sword,' so why not sit in comfort?"

Levy glanced down at Gajeel and Lily. She forgot to breathe at the word, her brother's word … they were in no position to make an issue of names, but her heart blazed with the sound of it. Gajeel met her eyes and said nothing as he rose from the floor so that he could rest himself and Lily on the couch.

She trembled, but it wasn't from the weight of the _SWORD_ . It was from him. From Gajeel. What had Gavin done to provoke such timidity in one of the most courageous – fool-hearty, but it was still courage – men she knew?

"Will you sit with your man, dove? Or must you stand to protect him?"

"Stop this! Just st-stop it, okay? What you want from me … it isn't possible. It's not. Dark magic, the magic you're playing with, it has no master. No controller. Even, _even if_ you were capable of doing this thing, of changing me, the power would not answer to you. Likely not even to me.

"You mentioned Tenrou. Hades. Then you know what monumental failures they were. You saw the Games, and I'd guess you know something of the Dragon Festival, and what failures arose from that. In my time in Fairy Tail, my guildmates – and I, even I – have foiled all manner of harebrained attempts to control dark power, and not one of them has succeeded. In what way could you do what so many others could not?"

He shrugged. "They weren't me. And they didn't have you, little sister." He touched his throat and snapped, and then the pain began.

"Gu-gu-" she coughed and blood sprayed the ground. Drops of red against slate-gray stone. The inside of her mouth and throat felt slashed with knives.

"I can, you see, control you. I can make you hurt; though, your pain isn't my desire, my dove. I to rule all the magic in Earthland, and you to stand before you. We two above all others. That was what I wanted for us."

"Dove for ... freedom, not ... for … for whatever that is-" she coughed again and a warm hand pressed against her back. Such a large hand, it spanned almost the whole of her and felt like a wall supporting her.

"Breathe. Don't let him get to you. Breathe."

His touch and his whisper hurt her as much as Gavin's magic hurt her throat. "Why are you being so quiet?" She almost sobbed. "Why are you..."

"Didn't just take me and Lily. Juvia and the kid and her cat, too."

"But...Wendy...she was at the guild when I left."

"Well, she's here, now. And that fuck..." the intense rage Gajeel aimed at Gavin chilled her. "That unholy jackass will regret touching all of them."

Her brother nodded, waved, and chucked as she fell against Gajeel's chest. Weak with the pressure he put on her windpipe. The released.

How he loved to play. She gasped.

"I knew it would take only one of these … _friends_ to keep you, dove, and it was obvious which of them would work best. Your man, however, is made of harder stuff. It was my belief that he would need more hostages to hold him. Were it only you, I believe he would have risked the two of you fighting me together. But with so many other _friends' _lives at my disposal, he would behave. And you see, I was right." He rubbed a thumb over his mouth and licked his lips, as if savoring a particularly pleasing memory.

The power Gavin released with the movement dragged at her shields. She let out a strangled moan, barely keeping herself from hyperventilating at how the pressure of the attack translated to her own body. Her hands ached. Her lungs burned.

Gajeel wrapped an arm around her midsection. Hard as iron, warm as flesh. The studs of his piercings dug into her rob cage, and the sensation filled her with renewed confidence. She shifted her footing, regaining her balance. Behind her, Gajeel also shifted. Keeping his body flush with hers. Supporting her.

She steadied.

Her brother's powers were massive, and he was ruthless along with it. Still, he was conceited and overconfident. She had no clue if she could beat him, or even put up a decent fight, but she remained certain that she needed to do it alone.

She might love Gajeel, love Gajeel _and _her friends, but they were liabilities to her now.

And, anyway, it wasn't a sword that would win against Gavin. Gavin's weaknesses were in his hollowed heart. His god complex. His inflated sense of self. His repressed feelings of inferiority to their Father. Yeah, she caught that one easy enough. _Father_ this, _Father_ that.

For an adult, he reminded her a good deal of a teenager trying to prove himself by rebelling against his family. Meaning...

"Deflatable," she whispered. "Too long unchallenged."

Gajeel's arm pulled back so that his hand pressed into her diaphragm, he growled in her ear, "And you can fix that, if I can get the rest of them free."

"Anywhere you go, he can take you."

"She's right, you know," Gavin said, seemingly unconcerned with their conversation. "I can do anything I want with the lot of you."

Gajeel's hand pushed harder, fingers curling into her flesh like he wanted to make a fist, but was fighting the impulse. Her scalp tingled when his lips touched the shell of her ear, "Not if you lock him down first. Lock that bastard down _now_, and I can get Lily and the girls out."

She wanted to … she wanted to say how much better it would be if she went for their friends and he fought, like they did back on the island. He was the fighter. He and Lily and Juvia. Even Wendy.

But that was fear talking. Unbecoming of a mage of Fairy Tail. She already knew it had to be her. She'd already decided it would be her. But Gajeel was so strong. So warm at her back.

"Gavin."

"What? Dearest sister, my little dove, you want to... what was it? _Lock me down_?"

She opened her hand and took the magic that made the _SWORD_ back. Levy stood straighter and turned her head. His lips, still against her ear, brushed her cheek. She wanted to cry. "You know where they are?"

"Yeah. Place has a fuckin' dungeon."

"I remember. I remember." She smiled and turned her face the little bit up it took to meet his mouth with her own. Her lips brushed his, fluttering, and lasting longer than she intended. "Go save them Gajeel."

"Shit yeah." He released her. Her skin was cold without him against her. But her heart blazed hot, and her lips felt softer than they ever had before. The impulse to cry was still there inside her, but today she was the hero. Today, she was the White Knight. Their White Knight. His White Knight.

"_GUARD!_" She swallowed back what blood was left in her mouth, and licked her lips. At the edge of her peripheral vision, she saw him lift Lily into his arms.

He turned to her. "Kick his ass, Shrimp."

"Of course." She smiled and caught her brother's eyes. Gavin's smirk was a mystery to her, but she would address that when Gajeel and Lily were away.

Gajeel hesitated at the door, another thing that was completely unlike him. "I need you to make it back, Shrimp."

She bit her lip and grinned at her brother. "Of course."

**Author's Note:**

So. There's that. I'm STILL not sure about this thing. I can usually channel Gajeel pretty well – if I do say so myself – but I don't have a good enough hold on him here. I know I don't. Shames me a bit, if I'm honest.

This quite obviously pulled from the Tenrou scene when Levy ran and Gajeel stayed. Never sat right with me, that. She could have notified the others in all sort of ways. A flare, for example. Hell, that happened back in 2010, and I'm still irked over it! Anyhow, that's sort of where the inspiration for the last bit came from.

Also: Star Wars. :)

Also, also: Never expect an update this fast again.


	3. Chapter 3

Hawk

Chapter Three

For a man who went through so much trouble abducting and harming half-a-dozen people she loved, Gavin was alarmingly calm at Gajeel's departure.

"You can't have him," she snapped. "Or the others. _Or_ me."

He rose from the chair. Finally. Finally, he stood. Air left her and surrounded him. She struggled. Gasping. Almost she fell to her knees, knees that still stung. Almost he killed her. Killed her as he had tried before. Then the air was back, and she choked on it. Blood, again. There was blood again.

"But I already have you. _Shrimp_." He smirked and put himself between her and the door Gajeel had left through. The door that led to what he called a dungeon. A door that led to a place she would never forget.

* * *

"_Do not close your eyes!" he slapped her. She was used to being slapped; she didn't cry. He hated when she cried._

_Still hurt._

"_Yes, Father."_

Least he's not screaming. _It was the only comfort she could give herself as she watched her Father whip her brother. _

_Gavin was _so_ strong. She looked up to him. She respected him. She only knew what love was because of how he rocked her to sleep and told her stories. Beautiful stories_

_But away from the stories, in this place where he was silenced and torn from her, love was a difficult thing to hold. _

"_Eyes, Levy!"_

"_Yes, Father."_

Hand raises. Hand lowers. SNAP! A line of red appears like magic on his scarred, scabbed, already bleeding chest.

_She did not cry. She would not cry. Father did not like it when she cried. Gavin never cried. When she cried, it was Gavin who was punished. She did not cry. She did not cry. They were not tears! SHE DID NOT CRY!_

"_Levy!" Father's whip snapped again. Red. Red red red and more red. Always red. "To me. Now!"_

"_Yes, Father." Her steps were small. Maybe something would stop her. Stop this. Save her. Save her. _Save me, please.

_No one and nothing came to answer her plea._

I don't want to! I don't want to! Don't want to! Don't want! Don't! Don't! Don't. Don't. No. No. No. NO! NO! NO!

_Her father's hand was soft, softer than her own, but the whip handle was rough. The leather handle felt disgusting. She felt sick. Her insides burned. Her father would hate that, too, if he knew._

_She was still for too long; she hesitated. _

"_WEAKNESS!" he growled. "You will not disobey me! _FIRE!_"_

_It engulfed her, and she smelled her hair burn. She'd only just got hair again. At least the fire stopped her from crying. Too hot to cry. Too dry to cry._

"_Now! Now, you stupid waste of flesh! You weak, ignorant, disobedient little bitch! DO AS I SAY!"_

_She raised her hand – her own hand; it was her hand, she could not deny it – and snapped the whip as he taught her. Kept her eyes on her brother as he ordered. Stayed standing and quiet as she was told over and over. _

_Gavin did not even twitch. She wished she could be as strong as him._

_But inside she was screaming._

* * *

Gavin was far too interested in her relationship with Gajeel.

"You know, it is a mystery to me why you chose to love a man who hurt you so..." his smirk was dark. "Or maybe not. Isn't there some cliché about girls falling for men like their fathers? You like that he hurt you?"

"He hurt me like _I _hurt _you_," she corrected. "On the orders of another. Like me, he regretted it. Unlike me, he owned up to it and worked to pay for his crimes. I should have done the same. I _am_ sorry; though, I know better than to expect or force your forgiveness."

"You couldn't force a thing from me. I do nothing," he tightened much in the way that Romeo's did when he was denied a mission, "I don't want to do."

"I only do what I want, as well. It's just that our desires are in conflict. You want to hurt; I want to heal. You want to own; I want to join. You want to destroy; I want to repair." She bit her cheek to repress her emotions, _she didn't cry_. "You want to recreate Father; I want to recover the boy who taught me how to use my imagination to escape hell.

"You may hate me, Gavin, but I will never – regardless of my fear – let go of the love you gave me when I needed it most."

Though she did fear him, she could not bring herself to hate him. By killing their father, he had saved her life. By killing their mother, he had freed her – horrible as that freedom was – from her madness and torment. By attempting to kill _her_, he was also attempting to save her. No question that he hated her, but maybe he still cared for her, a little, despite the hate.

Her emotions for him were complex, it only made sense that his were just as if not more so.

She curled her hand, and turned her arm. "_HAWK_!" she commanded, and her magic obeyed. "Frankly, you were a terrible story teller, but my life depended on those stories." She cleared her throat and made the effort to save him that she should have made when she was younger.

"Once upon a time, a hawk fell into the nest of a baby dove." She touched the large, winged word. Caressed it. "_DOVE!_" This word was smaller. Paler. Weaker. "The hawk was born to hunt and hate, but this dove was beautiful and sweet and looked at the hawk with dark eyes and an empty heart. Her wings were broken. The hawk, whose wings were also broken, decided to stay with the dove. To stay. Hawk and dove. Together." She put a hand to the center of her chest, "The hawk decided to stay with _me_."

* * *

_When Father left, it was her job to untie her brother, clean him, and bring him back upstairs for supper. He expected her brother to be neatly dressed and all of his wounds cleaned. They often had guests, and it was impolite to show wounds to guests, and unwise to show weakness to strangers. _

_First, she gathered a water basin, sponge, and towel, already prepared. Second, from a cabinet in the corner, she retrieved sewing needles and thread, as well as ointment and bandages. Third was to gather his clothing and put it near, but not too close that it would be splashed with water or stained with blood. Then, she moved the chair in front of him. She was not tall enough to reach the ropes; she had to stand on the chair to cut him down._

_Every time, he tried not to fall. Every time, he fell. She would crumble under his weight, and for a moment she would be still so that he could hide the fresh pain and regain his composure. But she could not give him long because Father did not like to be kept waiting._

_This time was not too bad. Since Father had commanded her to use the whip, and she was weak, his wounds were not as many or as deep as they could have been. The stitching took longest; she had to restitch many of the half-healed wounds from before, which had reopened, as well as the new ones. _

_As she was ordered to care for him, he was ordered to accept her care in silence, without complaint or resistance. It was his own choice to remain unflinching. Though it was hot, his clothing was dark and thick, with long sleeves and pants. His skin, she noticed, was paler than ever. His eyes were glassy, and his forehead burned with fever. _

"_I'll get you medicine when we go upstairs," she promised in the quietest of whispers, "and you must eat. You must." He wrists were almost as narrow as her own, and she was five years younger._

_He looked down at her, finally looked at her, and fell against her once more. Wrapping his arms around her and shaking. "I am nothing without you, dove." _

_She closed her eyes tight, afraid for him. Afraid because he spoke when he was not supposed to. Afraid because the words sounded so much like goodbye._

_She did not cry. _

_Neither did he._

* * *

He was unmoved by her words. She was disappointed, but hardly surprised. An old story, awkwardly created by a child and retold by a frightened woman, wouldn't be enough to counter decades of hurt.

Gavin moved his hand in a way that signaled his intent to teleport … something. She moved faster.

"_ANCHOR!_"

She waited, but there was no pull at her or her magic. It wasn't her he was targeting. Of course it wasn't. Stupid. _Stupid!_ She watched a third body touch the ground. Three in less than an hour.

"_GUARD!_"

Juvia's skin was somewhat fluid around her edges. Her hands half melted. Levy assumed that she, too, had taken the pain in order to spare her friends. But, though Levy was furious that Juvia was injured, she was not worried as much as for Lily. Levy had developed a theory that Juvia was this side of immortal. Or at least extremely resistant to lasting physical harm.

"Did Gajeel make it to you?" Levy had hoped that her _GUARD_ spell would hold, but she had no guarantees. She'd also hoped it would spread to the others in his general vicinity, but Juvia was taken...

"Gajeel-kun, he was … vanished." Juvia's legs dissolved, then reformed. They were covered in bruises.

He hadn't made it down before Gavin brought Juvia up. Her spell was holding.

Gavin materialized a flail. Four chains, each ending in a ball of spikes. Each spike glowing red. He walked to them, and Levy raised another shield.

"See," he told her, swinging the weapon absently, "you aren't even close to this one; yet, your skin is pale, your heart rate erratic, and, by the smell, you're sweating profusely. With the man, the terror was too fresh and intense for you to truly grasp the whole of the situation, but now … now it's sinking in, isn't it? It doesn't matter who I take because you are fundamentally weak."

He snapped his hand much the same way their father used to. She could almost see him there, standing beside her brother. A hazy memory. A nightmare.

The flail slapped her shield. Exploded like bombs. The shield cracked, and she cried out. Levy threw up another before the sparks of contact faded. This was not going as well as she hoped.

But she was still standing. Small victory, but a victory all the same. Juvia was still alive, which was a much bigger victory. If she could just knock him off balance for a moment...

"_HOLE!_"

He would be back up in a fraction of a second, she knew. She had to be quick. "_SILENCE!_" She pushed her hand and swung her left arm down. "_GUARD!_" Levy grabbed her friend's dress and pulled her up with all of her might. "Go Juvia! Run away, or go for Gajeel and the others downstairs, but go! NOW!"

Juvia slid on wet feet towards the door, slipping around the _HOLE_.

Gavin was out.

"_WALL!_" she blocked the door. _"WALL!_" she blocked herself. "_WALL!_" she blocked him. Tried to block him.

Juvia escaped, but the walls did not hold. He ripped apart her words like tissue paper.

"_VINES!_" They surrounded him. "_THORNS!_" They pierced him. The smell of blood was instant, but brief. He teleported himself free of the confinement.

To her.

His nose touched her _GUARD_. He grinned. He grinned and chuckled.

"Not the best idea, dove. It takes a little more energy than I care to expend at the moment, but one does what one has to do. In the end, your protections are nothing to me."

His hand vanished from his arm to reappear and close around her throat. She reached up to pull it away, thrashing as she was lifted from the floor. Desperate, she worked to form sounds, any sounds. To gesture. To call forth her solid script.

She managed nothing.

He opened his arms to her - _No! No! No! _He opened his arms to her, one arm without a hand. He opened his arms to her, and she struggled. He opened his arms to her and the courtyard vanished.

Leaving only her brother and the darkness that surrounded him.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Yes. The last sentence is the same as the first chapter.

This chapter is much shorter, true, but that meant I was able to actually update today! Which is good. I guess. I hope?

I'm noticing annoying similarities to another story of mine, _When the Lights Go Out_, which is pissing me off. I'm trying to get over it by reminding myself that _WTLGO_ focused on Gajeel's story, while _Hawk_ focuses on Levy's.

Still, confinement by a person from their past, using friends against them, being generally dark and depressing... Don't know if this is really worth what's basically rewriting an old story! ARG!

I will work on this. I will _try_ to work on this. What I have done of chapter four... shit. I _will_ work on this.


	4. Chapter 4

Hawk

Chapter Four

It was dark, dark gray, and there was a gag in her mouth. She was shackled to a wall; damp wall, cold. She couldn't have been unconscious long as her wrists and ankles didn't hurt. Yet.

In the dim light, she could tell she wasn't alone. To her left and right, others … other women, who were likewise caught and caged. Levy grunted, muffled by the gag, trying to get their attention. Neither moved. They were still out, but their breathing sounded steady enough.

Her eyes adjusted more to the room and the gray darkness lightened. There was a familiar seat in the middle of the large space. She'd spent many days there, watching her Father. Her brother.

Now it belonged to Gavin.

"I must say," he raised his chin, acknowledging that she was awake, "I'm impressed with how well your 'guard' spell is holding against me. Combined with distance, the five I originally took have escaped. You've proven to be better than I hoped, even without the boost you'll be getting now."

Were it not for the women beside her, Levy might have been happier about Gajeel and the others remaining free. And the compliment. It was a compliment, and a traitorous part of herself was buoyed by the simply stated point. But the women _were_ there, so happiness was a thin, fragile line stretched between her heart and her brother's approval.

All she ever wanted was for him to love her and for them to be together and free of this place.

_Forget it Levy! Focus!_

She jerked her head to indicate her interest in his other prisoners.

"Ah, yes. This time I decided to take not only the strongest, but also those with traits similar to your own. It is my theory that your magic will better respond to and absorb the essence of those closest to you, physically and emotionally."

From what she could tell the only similarity was gender. She looked harder, forcing her eyes to see despite the gloom. Her eyes widened. And guild. It was Erza. Erza was hanging on her right, and Mira – skin shadowed with bruises – on her left.

As if reading her mind, Gavin explained his reasoning. She loved it when people did that. It gave her time to think.

"Similarities add another layer to the spell. All of you possessing similar body chemistry is good for a start. Feeding you men would work magically, but would not have quite the level of benefit that you'll receive from a mage with complimentary physicality."

She rolled her eyes. _'Complimentary physicality'? Has he lost his mind? And, more importantly: FEED? _She twisted her wrists in the shackles, but tried to be discreet about it. He didn't notice, caught in his monologuing. Not that it mattered, since she wasn't able to rotate her wrist enough for anything useful.

She grunted in frustration. He didn't notice that, either.

"But it's so much deeper than that, with you. All three of you are defined by painful childhoods and life-altering losses. You then matured, together, in the same environment. All three of you are kind and caring top-to-bottom, but each possessed of a fierce core. A hard, burning spirit, that ignites when need demands."

She scoffed at that, but the sound came out as a choking moan. He laughed. Happily.

He had some serious emotional problems.

"Well, your levels of fierceness and triggers for that fierceness are different, I grant you, but still there in all three." He continued his list, "Determined. Stubborn. Leaders. And there are the smaller things, such as the sibling pairs-"

"Hgeh?"

"The shifter and her two blood relations, the red-head and her fire and ice underlings, and you and your two fawning puppies," he explained. "All three of you the head of your little three-person families. You and your two guildmates have distinctive appearances and personalities; people do not often forget about you once they have met you."

The more he spoke, the more she was moved by his words. Never would she have compared herself to two of the strongest Fairy Tail mages – two of the strongest mages in Fiore! – but he spoke each word with conviction, and each word filled her with golden brilliance.

She was so caught up in what he was saying that she missed _how_ he was saying it. The tones. The movements. Missed the pen dangling from his fingertips. (_Father's pen. Father's pen. Father's pen._)Missed the crawl of magic on the women beside her.

When she realized, it was too late.

There was a slight tingle at her throat, where he had grabbed her in the courtyard. Runes, no doubt. Penned with the relic of their father's magic. Stolen when Gavin murdered him. Runes of beguilement. She was finding it difficult to look away from him because of how glorious she felt when he was within her field of vision. Like sunlight on wet skin, she was basking in the warmth of him.

She felt a sharp pierce of half-a-dozen needles penetrate her arms. The glory faded, replaced with illness, weakness; she wanted to faint.

"Unghn!" she struggled, but to no avail. Whipping her head right and left, she could discern narrow tubes connecting her arms to the arms of her friends.

Blood. Blood, blood, blood! Layers and layers, just as he said. Blood taken. From Mother. From Father. From them to … to … to...

"Arhhrgh! Ahg … Ughra!" she screamed. She whimpered. She cried. She thrashed.

Gavin stood and walked to her with measured steps. His calm, unshaken by her actions. "And, while we strengthen your general power by use of your extraordinary companions, we must also enhance that which makes you worthy of your god-hood. And that which makes you mine."

He held up a maroon ball. Opaque, but shimmering with a film of charms. Hundreds of charms. They almost blinded her. Despite her mania, she recognized three of the charms: Longevity, possession, and dependence.

She began to shake. "Ungo. Ungo. Ungo! Leez, Gaan! Leez. Ungo!"

Fabric tore, and she screamed. Skin tore, and she screamed. Her ribs creaked and broke open, and she made a sound that could not be described. She could feel Gavin's hands inside her. Pushing aside organs. For much too long, her lungs could not take in air. Agony, somehow she could still comprehend agony, sliced through her as he surely manipulated the tissue that formed her heart.

Through it all, she retained consciousness. Eventually her ribs were closed. Her skin knit whole. Cloth covered her.

Then, with the wave of a hand (_Father's pen_), he blessed her with sleep.

* * *

When Levy woke, she was assaulted by daylight. The pain, all of the pain was gone. She was horizontal. A bed. She rolled to her side. Light was coming through a large window, shaded by sheer white curtains.

"Home." _Home_. Home. She was still home.

_A place where I do not cry._

Sitting up was uncomfortable, but she had to look. Had to see. The lower half of the walls were splashed with bright, beautiful colors. She had been … five? Yes, five when she did that. It was a surprise when her father left the paint alone.

But maybe not a surprise, in hindsight. If, as Gavin claimed, Father meant to make her into a … a god of creation and language, perhaps he considered a certain amount of individual personality necessary. He had, on occasion, allowed her to play outside. For almost a year, she had a puppy. A puppy named Apple. She wasn't sure why she had given him such a name; he had gray fur and black eyes.

She had loved him.

Father had forced her to put him down.

_Erza. Mira._

Levy's blood rushed to her head, and her ears buzzed. She did not want to remember such things. Did not want to be in a place that reeked of nightmarish nostalgia.

The door creaked, and she shifted so that she could watch Gavin walk in with a tray of foodstuff. His skin was ruddier, and his smile somewhat sweeter.

This same thing, the image of him in her doorway. Her brother with a tray and a smile. So many times in their childhoods, she had seen this very image. They were happy memories that defined the worst of memories. Defined their stations in the world as they knew it: In the dungeon, Levy cleaned him after he was whipped; in her room, Gavin woke her with breakfast the following morning to chase away the nightmares.

Above ground, Father required a semblance of familial closeness. There were all those important people to put on a happy face for. But in this room – in her room , where her brother would leave her letters sealed with blue wax – closeness was genuine.

_Was_.

"Good morning, dove. You should be hungry. Please, eat."He sounded … boisterous. And revolting.

Levy slapped her hands over her ears. She pushed back until she fell off of the bed and backed into a corner. Too much. Too soon. He wasn't giving her the time she needed to catch up.

"Erza. Mira. Erza. Mira. Erza. Mira." She whispered the names that light and memory were working to drive from her. Gavin was trying to pull her from her present and stitch her back into the past, where he could own her and control her. She had to regain herself.

She focused on her body, remembering well the wounds he gave her, but finding no lingering pain. The same was true of the needle marks on her arms. Or rather the lack of needle marks.

Her throat tingled. Beguilement runes still in place. And deep within her flesh, magic rolled. Boiled. Some of it hers. Some of it foreign. But it was merging, she could feel the tension of the combining. It was becoming something new.

She quivered with energy. An ache was growing in her thighs and ankles. She wanted to move. Wanted to run. _Needed to run._

"Food," Gavin was saying as she examined herself, "will help stabilize the connection between your magic and your body." He sat the tray on her bed. She looked up, unable to ignore him and that golden glorious feeling she got when he was near. He tilted his head to study her.

"What?" she snapped. She was fighting a desire to not just run, but run to _him_. Her fingers twitched. Her body on the verge of exploding with contradictions in will and power and emotion.

"Your skin is too red. Something will have to be done about that. It might fade as your body finds its equilibrium. If not," he tapped is lips with a fingertip, and she saw he still held _Father's_ pen, "we could cover you in runes. That would make a striking impression when you begin walking Earthland in your god form. You aren't at all intimidating, and any god acting as my subordinate needs to capture the reverence of humanity at first sight. Runic tattoos would evoke a feeling of otherworldliness..." he took a moment to ponder before snapping his fingers. "Yes. I like it."

Not that she considered him all that sane _before_, but he was tilting pretty hard on the bipolar marry-go-round. Whether it made him more or less terrifying, she hadn't yet decided.

"Tattoos."

"Correct. It can be a defining feature. Gods need those sorts of things." He looked around, "Shouldn't do it here. The study would be best. I've a large desk there that should help."

"Study? Father's study?" She did not want to go there. Father hurt Gavin in the dungeon. Father hurt _her_ in the study.

His gaze narrowed, "_My_ study."

She sucked in a breath and a familiar form of obedience moved her lips. "Yes, Gavin."

He grinned, "I rather enjoy that. Say it again."

She did not want to, but as she clenched her teeth to refuse, a fire burned in her lungs and that obedience pressed on her. The sounds, each phoneme combining as words, born by her tongue and lips. "Yes, Gavin."

Once more, she was filled with golden pleasure.

"Again."

Her struggle was shorter, the euphoria longer. "Yes, Gavin."

"Again."

"Yes, Gavin."

"Good. Now, eat. Then we will cover you in words, just as you are filled with them."

* * *

**Author's Note**: So. Four. I still have NO idea what I'm doing. Seriously. As of the end of chapter three, I think I'm just … writing and hoping that my fingers and the pen I'm holding know what they're doing. (And that my fingers and keys translate that knowledge when when I go from paper to LibreWriter...)

Sorry for any errors. Sorry for any confusion. Just sorry in general, I think.

Have a good day! Please remember to review. And tip your server. But mainly, review. Please.


	5. Chapter 5

Hawk

Chapter Five

She hated Father's study. The look of it. The smell of it.

Gavin put her on Father's over-large desk. On her back, face to the ceiling. Blackened with smoke. Father had smoked. She had forgotten that. She looked at the ceiling. She looked at the staining. She looked at the past, the memories, the nightmares.

Gavin forced her to give him _words_, and he covered her with them. She spoke when commanded, and looked up at the ceiling. It was too much. She closed her eyes. She didn't want to see. It didn't help. The despair was too thick in her.

Closed, her eyes felt too big for their sockets. They were filling her skull. Stretching her skin. They were in her throat. Her toes. Her eyes were everywhere in her. Saw all of her. And all of her was words. She was fracturing into the smallest pieces, so small that she was losing...

"Dove. Lift your hip. We still need to cover your right thigh. I'm thinking you need a softer rune. _Hope_ or _growth_. Vague and positive; a rune that will draw our people to us, honey for bees, to sweeten the commands made by the other symbols."

Gavin spoke. He spoke and spoke, and she understood less with every word he said and every word she made.

"Pick a rune, dove."

She gasped. Recalled what it meant to breathe. Had to do that. Important.

"Dove. A rune."

"_SYMPATHY_." The word grew from her. It was pale blue and fluttered, caught in a supernatural breeze.

"Nice," Gavin approved, plucking the word from the air and placing it against her skin. He fused it to her with their father's pen and their father's magic.

"Mira. Erza. Mira. Erza. Mira...Erza..."

"You say something, dove?" He moved and placed his face in front of hers. "No thoughts of rebellion. Will you obey me?"

"Yes, Gavin."

"Good girl. Now, the feet. I'm thinking _determination_ and _path_. Or, perhaps, _poise_."

"_PATH_." It was dirt-colored and thin. He wrapped it around her left ankle and foot. "_DISTANCE_." Transparent, almost liquid. Her right.

Gavin squeezed her right calf, "Distance is a good choice. Very good."

* * *

_Every other night, for as long as she could remember, he left a letter for her. She had been without them for weeks now, and that made her sad. But she still checked. Every night she checked for her letter. And tonight he blessed her with one. Tucked under her mattress pad was a folded sheet of cream-colored parchment, sealed with blue wax, stamped with a dove in flight. _

_The letter was short. The shortest ever. Only a handful of words._

_ "I am coming for you."_

_He had been gone for a month. Escaped. She had missed him terribly, and Father was furious. She spent most of her time hiding from him. Afraid that he would turn that fury on her._

_When would he come? Tonight? Tomorrow? How would he make it through Father's protective charms? Where would he take her to? So many questions, all of them less important than her excitement._

_He was coming! Gavin would save her. They would be free, like he always said. Like he always promised._

_She wanted to sing, dance, anything to express the energy that filled her, but she forced her body into stillness and her mind into calm. If Father found out, he would capture Gavin and put him in the dungeon, again. _

_Levy didn't want that to happen. She would continue to hide. Hide in the courtyard trees. Father wouldn't find her there. No one would. The courtyard trees were tall and thick with leaves, and she was very small. _

_She would be safe there._

* * *

"Okay, dove, time to flip over." He looked proud of his work thus far. She was glad she could not see her own skin. "Now, next thing is to remove _this_ eyesore."

The pen scratched at the skin over her shoulder blade. Digging in, cutting. Shoulder blade. Skin...

"No!" she screamed, able to see clearly for the first time in hours. She gathered power in her hands, on her tongue, to throw out; "_STO-_" she began to hyperventilate Her arms, in the process of pushing her up, locked at the wrists and elbows before losing all strength. She landed on her right ear and cheekbone.

"Please, Gavin. Don't take it. Don't take it from me. Please..." It was getting more difficult to speak. To remember. To see anything but the raw flesh of her heart and the charms that crawled over it.

Longevity, possession, dependence.

Obedience.

Gavin rearranged her limbs so that she was again flat on the desk. "Now that your little tantrum is over, let us try this once more. I suggest you behave this time. It's coming off whether you like it or not."

He carved. Pulled. Folded back and tore. She tried not to feel. Wanted not to feel. But it was impossible. It was everything she believed in. Everything she loved. Everything she respected. Everything she needed.

And he ripped it from her.

The emptiness she felt when the job was done was more pain to her than any suffering she'd faced before. Her heart and mind grew dull.

"What shall we replace it with, hmmm?"

"Wings," she said. Her tone was blank, the word barely recognizable. "You promised me wings."

He chuckled, "That I did. Wings it is, then. Get to it, little sister."

A deep breath; her ears buzzed; her blood roared. "_WINGS_."

* * *

_When he entered the house, she wanted to run to him. Her heart filled. Love, excitement, hope. She wanted to run to him. To touch him. To know it was real. That he'd come to save her from the hell they were born into._

_They would fly away. He had come for her. She grinned and leaned forward. Her foot bent to leave the ground and take a step._

_But he met Mother. Before she could go to him, he met Mother. Before she could go to him, he killed Mother._

_The scream was mercifully short. Levy never really had any connection to her mother. The woman was as much a part of her life as the maid who came once a week to clean the house. Sometimes Father would make Levy watch her mother tortured in the dungeon, but it wasn't like with Gavin. Mother didn't cry, but she also didn't have Gavin's fire. Father might as well be working on a mannequin. And Mother didn't hold her after, like Gavin did. So Levy had no real thoughts of her._

_But that didn't make the murder any easier to watch. _

_It wasn't easy to understand what had happened. Mother screamed, and Mother fell. The squishy mound of pinkish stuff in Gavin's hand, which hadn't been there before Mother fell, meant very little to her. At first. But Levy continued to look._

_And Levy wasn't ignorant. Not of the human body. Levy had seen much of the human body, inside and out. Levy knew what those were. Those wet tubes and red knobs of … of flesh. She recognized a heart when one was dropped to the floor and stepped on._

_Her foot was now firmly back on the ground, and she was leaning back. Her grin had shattered, leaving her mouth open. A void, purged of emotion. Nothing. Maybe it would have been better if she could muster up disbelief, but her mind was too frightened to lie to itself. She saw. She believed. _

_Gavin's eyes swept the large entry room, and nodded. Comfortable. He didn't see her, hiding in her little alcove. He rolled his shoulders, settling. He turned in the direction of their father's study. _

_He wouldn't be there; she could have told Gavin that their father wouldn't be in his study. Father had caught her going to the courtyard the day before. Now, every day, he would go look for her among the bushes._

_With Gavin out of the room, Levy fell and pushed herself further into the corner of her small alcove. What should she do? Should she go to Gavin? He had killed Mother, but what had Mother ever done for them? He would probably kill Father, but – she clinched her fists and her eyes and her jaw – he deserved to die! _

_Why did she feel like she should go warn him? What was making her legs pulse with a need to go to the courtyard and tell her father that Gavin was coming?_

_Gavin loved her. He was her hawk, and she was his dove, and they would fly away. They would heal, and they would fly away._

_But he wasn't supposed to do that. To do that _thing_ he just did. _

_Levy let her eyes fall back on her mother. Gavin wasn't supposed to do anything like that. So what was _she_ supposed to do?_

* * *

"_WINGS._"

The word was feathered, pearlescent white, and glorious. She was without joy, so also without smiles, but the beauty of the word was worthy of a smile or two.

Gavin pulled the word from her line of sight and stitched it to her shoulder blades. He hummed as he worked. She tune sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. Her eyes burned. The tune reminded her of something white. White like _WINGS_. Soft and white and musical.

"Gavin?" her voice, had she still been capable of tone, might have been timid. Instead, the name was monotone, tired.

"Yes, dove?"

"Where is Mira? Erza and Mira?"

"Not here. I might need them later, but I don't have the time to look after prisoners. We have more important things to do. I threw them somewhere. Magnolia, I think, but I wasn't exactly all that concerned after they filled you. They'll make their way back to that pile of trash you called home. Or not. Regardless, I can find them again.

"I've considered them for a second transfusion – you will need three, if my calculations are correct – but I'm also considering other sources to vary your skill set. So far you have adaption and stamina from your two female guild-mates. This will support and grow your solid script and ability to manipulate runes. This is very good."

She moved her tongue, repeating the words to try and comprehend them, "'This is very good.'"

"Correct. Very good. But only a start. What else might we take, dove? Any ideas?"

She didn't answer him. Her back felt lighter, her head full of clouds. _WINGS_ were almost truly hers.

"I might go for the water mage, again," he said, not bothered by her silence. "The _wholeness_ of her magic intrigues me. Most people use magic; she _is_ her magic. A fine line for some, but a factor, even so. You use words … you should become them. Yes. We'll leave the knight and demon for now and go instead for the water witch."

_Juvia._

"I _GUARD_ Juvia," she reminded him, and it hurt. The simple sentence was flavored with the barest hint of rebellion, and rebellion was seasoned with disobedience, and disobedience made bland and weakened the golden radiance of him. Golden pleasure being the only feeling left to her, losing it hurt.

But he laughed, and she was at ease. He shined again, and the stress caused by her contradiction faded. "You can remove your protection," he reminded her. "I can remove it using you."

"I-" she swallowed. "I don't want anyone to die."

"Ah, a weakness that will need correcting, but for now it is unimportant. I will not kill her. She's no use to me dead, don't you see?"

"I don't see."

"Disappointing." He sighed, and it was like a knife in her heart.

"Please, Gavin."

"I killed our parents because they deserved death and their lives were tied to us by blood. If I wanted your power augmented by them, they had to die. And even if it did nothing for you, they had to die because I desired their deaths.

"Those I feed you now have _emotional_ connections, not _life_ connections. If I kill then, I lose that control. They are both a steady source of power for you to feed on, and the noose around your neck that will – even more than the runes – keep you under my command. You see, dove, if we all remain calm, we will all live."

"We? All?"

He brushed a hand over her hair. She wondered if he smiled. "Good catch. Right. You, me, your guild. Maybe your town? Yes. I'll leave your Magnolia as a safe area. It could even house a temple!" He slapped her back, sewing complete. "Creating a god is a lot of fun, don't you think?"

She closed her eyes. All those people. All of Earthland.

She felt the bite of nails in her flesh.

"Don't you think?"

She gasped, "Yes, Gavin."

"Good girl. Now, one good rune for your lower back and I'd say we're done with this part. Thoughts?"

So many thoughts, but too few to save her. What words would her friends choose? What words would help her now?

The guild would be safe. Gavin promised the guild would be safe. If Gavin were to succeed with her, then it would be up to the guild to save Earthland _from_ her. But it would be better if Gavin did not succeed. If she were not the creature he desired. If she made herself into something different.

Her heart recognized the thoughts as contrary to Gavin's will, and a sickness rolled through her. She had to have something to build herself on. Something strong enough to anchor her. Personal enough to remind her who she was. Evocative enough to call … common enough to hide …

"_STEEL_." She coughed out the word that her heart recognized as a weapon and shield against her master. It was black and hard. Sharp at the corners.

She did not see his reaction, but he made no comment as he applied it to the cross-space of her spine and hips.

* * *

_She hated her father, and her father hated her. This was something she accepted. It was a knowledge she was born with, and a knowledge she grew with. _

_Seeing him now, all five parts of him spread around the stone cobbles, she remembered how she hated him. How he had earned that hatred. Gavin was laughing, and Levy was scared of that laugh. Not because it was so odd and out of place, but because laughing earned punishment. _

Don't laugh_, she wanted to say. _Father will hurt you!

_But he wouldn't. Because Father was dead. Father deserved to be dead. _

_Gavin laughed. Gavin could laugh for the first time ever. He could laugh and smile and fly! He could fly and he could do anything and he could save her and that's why he had come was to save her and if he had to kill Mother and Father to save her because save her because... oh god!_

_She didn't want to admit that she was terrified. He was all she knew of love. All she knew of happiness. All she knew of family, and she could not bare to look at him. _

_She covered her eyes, curled up tighter in the branches of her tree, and hid for the many hours it took for him to finally leave._

_They deserved to die. Gavin deserved to laugh. _

_Why did nothing make sense?_

* * *

**Author's note:** And five.

...I got nothin'. Please review.


	6. Chapter 6

Hawk

Chapter Six

He gave her little time to acclimate to – as he called it – her evolved form. Her guess was two hours, but much of time had become vague to her. There was no change of light to dark, day to night, and that was the only time she could hold. It was possible that she hadn't even been gone for a full day. Sunset to afternoon?

Time better measured in hours or minutes than days... but it felt like she'd been under Gavin's power for eons.

After equilibrium was established and the words had fully merged with her body, Gavin put her in front of a large mirror. Forcing her to face his creation.

"Dove. You are a god. Untested, but a god. You are capable of creation, annihilation, vast _change_. No single guild of mages can match you. And you are mine."

She looked in the mirror as commanded. Her outline was unchanged. Her hair was still blue. Her eyes still brown. But she was not herself. Curling lines of rainbow colors, boxes of black, dots of silver all crowded on her skin.

Horizontal lines stretched over her forehead, her eyes, and her mouth. On her throat, the rune for beguilement remained. Lines like snakes coiled up her right arm while blossoming vines crew on her left. Both hands were colored green.

In the center of her torso, a maroon circle took up most of her flesh, marking the blood charm Gavin had inserted into her. Around the circle was an arch decorated with stars.

Stylized eyes decorated both of her hipbones, a complicated knot marking the space between. Her left knee bore a lock, the right, a key. Her thighs chains and fruit. Lines ringed her lower legs. Both feet were colored black.

She turned, and there were the wings on her shoulders. Feathered, but flat. Even through her apathy she felt _something_ at the sight. Happy. Sad. The curve of her lower back featured a hilt, with a blade piercing up her spine, between each wing.

Her body was a living iconography. She had no comment to make to her brother, who seemed to be waiting for her to remark on the change. She turned to him, and kept her silence.

"That done then, let us go play a bit, shall we?" Gavin was happy, a happiness he shared with her through the charm on her throat and the one in her heart. She was giddy. It made the general sickness that rolled in her gut easier to bear.

"Before we go, I think I'll give a bit of a reminder." Gavin waved his hand and Droy appeared.

"See. Alive. As I promised."

"Levy! Levy, we're coming! Gajeel made it back, Wen-" he choked.

Another wave of his hand and Gavin was holding a soft, slick, yellowish ball. (_She knew the insides of the human body. She knew human fat when she saw it.)_ Droy screamed, clutched his dented stomach. "Your fat, weak friend will die if you do anything against me." Gavin vanished Droy, even while he screamed. "Do not dare betray me."

In this place, she did not cry. It was not allowed, so she did not cry. She could not feel, so she did not cry.

"Yes, Gavin."

He put his arms around her shoulders. His cheek to hers. "Well. Let's get started."

* * *

They were on a high hill. She did not recognize it at first, but a small turn showed her Magnolia. The hill above Magnolia.

Yearning.

The soul trapped inside of her reached, arms outstretched. Screamed to be let go. To be allowed her true home and her true heart. To take back the wings she made on her own, made of friendship.

But those arms, that voice, that soul never made it outside. Trapped within her skin, she remained Gavin's puppet.

"Time to call the disciples. Build a temple, dove. Dedicate it to the God of Language, yourself. Build a temple for me." He kissed her cheek before stepping away to let her work. Her heart swelled with his confidence, and her yearning was momentarily forgotten.

Dependence. Obedience. Beguilement.

Somewhere, somewhere deep deep inside where there were no charms to command her, she cried refusal, but Gavin's control was too strong. She raised her hands.

"_FOUNDATION._"

"I want it to glow, dove."

"_WALL. WALL. WALL. WALL. MIRROR. FOXFIRE."_

"It must be envied, awe-inspiring."

"_GOLD. SILVER. DIAMOND. SAPPHIRE. EMERALD. RUBY._"

"It must, in some way, echo you."

"_LAPIS LAZULI."_

"Good enough, for the moment. Now, let us see to the interior."

"_STAIRS._"

With deliberate steps, she walked to the gap in the mirrored, bejeweled walls. The inside was bare, blank.

"_PAPER_. _INK_."

"A little hard to see in here, dove."

"_LIGHT."_

"Better. Now. What should we write with the ink? Gods need origin stories. How about we stick with your own life story? It's interesting enough."

She looked at the pen he held out to her (_Father's pen_), then up to his face. Those copper irises were filled with humor; though, the set of his lips was stern.

"Impress me, dove. Color these walls with the myth of Levy, God of Language."

"_AUTOBIOGRAPHY._" The word was huge, and it was like ripping out her lungs to speak it. She almost collapsed under the weight of it, and was surprised when she didn't. When, in fact, her blood still sparkled with energy. The word was blue, shaped like her body, and stumbled just as she did.

She reached to touch the sword (_STEEL_) on her spine, and straightened. _AUTOBIOGRAPHY_ copied her.

"_MURAL._" Multi-colored mosaic. She pushed the two words together with a grunt that turned into a yell. The magic combined and almost exploded. The word changed.

_LEVY_ hung in the air before her. She swallowed.

She stabbed the nib of the (_Father's_) pen into her green palm and pressed the bleeding wound to the word. Images swept over _LEVY_, following the timeline of her life.

"Put it up, for all to see," Gavin pushed her in the direction of the nearest wall, covered in paper, as all the walls were. She felt his hand on her _WINGS_. It tickled the feather ends of her tattoo, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation. "LEVY! Walls!"

"Yes, Gavin."

She touched the pen to _LEVY_ until it was absorbed, then dipped the nib into _INK_. Hand up. Pen to paper. She drew her name, large and curling, upon the walls of her temple, and from that action the story of her life was writ. Images covered all available space.

Slowly, she turned. Eyes wide and darting, trying to take it all in. She saw her father, Lucy, her first mission with Jet and Droy. She saw herself embracing Lily with a grin. Crying in a jungle. There was Laxus with a horrific expression on his face. Mira with a tray. Oak trees. The first town she ran to after escaping her house at the age of nine. Her favorite bookstore in the capitol. The librarian in Magnolia. Natsu and Gray fighting. Master grinning. Mavis beside him.

There was Hades. The Seven Kin of Purgatory. Jose. The Element Four.

There was Gajeel. Everywhere. Everywhere.

There was Gavin. Everywhere. Everywhere.

Bordering it all – between, around, behind – were words. Delicate script. Bold stamps. Large signs.

And on the ceiling, high above her, covering the whole space, was a symbol. A white symbol. Her heart. The sign of Fairy Tail.

It was still in her. Still a part of her. Gavin hadn't taken it when he tore it from her body. Were she free, she would have jumped for joy. But even bound, she smiled.

Gavin hissed.

"Remove it."

"The spell is set, Gavin. It is a stroke in that spell. I cannot remove it without removing the whole."

"You are a god," he growled, slapping her. The tattooed line across her lips and cheeks vibrated with the hit. _TRUTH_, she recalled. That rune was based on her solid script word, _TRUTH_. "You can do anything!"

"I cannot," she corrected him while her throat burned and pain lanced through her for speaking against him. "I am created by a man. Subject to the laws of my magic. I cannot write only part of a word and have the whole of the word exist."

"You are a god!" he yelled again. "Remove the symbol!"

"I am a godlike mage. And I cannot."

"You are required to obey me!"

"Yes, Gavin." That was true.

"You will remove it."

"I cannot." She hurt. Her throat. Her skin. Her heart. She hurt. That was true.

He punched her this time. This was a simple pain, and the charms told her it was deserved pain. She did not move against him. She thought he would strike her a third time, but instead he clinched his fists and looked away.

"I hate limitations," he muttered, ripping the pen from her hands. Runes flowed from the nib like rushing water. Runes she recognized. Runes that scorched and shredded. He threw those runes at her high-above heart...

The ceiling and the Fairy Tail symbol blackened. Barely visible behind the damage.

"NO!" she shrieked, and her own skin caught fire.

Gavin cleared his throat and his expression calmed. Returning to pleasant smiles. "An alter next. Then, we'll call some people in and add some character."

* * *

He made her sit in a chair, a throne, while he sat in his own. He was slightly behind her, on her right, and veiled in _SHADOW_.

"Fairy Tail will come soon," Gavin's voice was a whisper, drifting into her ear. "Not that I would allow them to stay, but I would prefer to save my power for other things. Guard your temple, dove."

"_GUARD._" The rune snake that coiled around her arm, glowed.

"Good girl. That should hold them for the moment. Now. This place is a little dull." He looked around, "I'm thinking statues. Images of those you conquered."

She didn't bother telling him that she wasn't much of a conquerer. Her story surrounded him. He could see that for himself.

"And thus the God of Language faces her first foe."

The four great globes of light that illuminated the temple showed a man fall through Gavin's gift. She recognized him.

Jose. Jose Porla of Phantom Lord.

"Hurt him, dove."

"_PAIN._"

The old man – he was something of an old man, now – screamed as the word pierced him. Gavin laughed.

"Do better. Be clever."

Clever... "_GRAVITY,_" he was pressed into the floor. "_BLAST,_" he groaned. She waved a hand to release _GRAVITY_. Pushed, trying to stand.

"_ACID_."

"Ahahaha! More!" Gavin's laugh filled her. She wanted to obey. Obedience was her only joy.

"_BREAK_," weak gasps could be heard as his leg snapped. "_BREAK_," and his arm. "_BURN_," and again he screamed.

"That's it. That's just the look I want. Make him a statue to your power, dove. Make him yours."

"_FREEZE. STIFFEN. SOLIDIFY. STONE._"

In the center of her temple there was a statue of a man who had once hurt her guild in an attempt to hurt her friend.

"Justice?" she asked.

"Haha! If you want it to be. But justice doesn't have to always be about pain. Justice can also be adoration and devotion. Let us try another."

A second man fell through the cracks of space. This one she also recognized.

"Yomazu."

"Correct, little sister. One of your own kind. A lesser example of your kind, but a script mage, none the less. You are a god, _his_ god. Make him love you."

"_ATTENTION._" The word was large and flashing. She hit him in the face with it. He turned to her, caught by the – admittedly captivating on its own – image of a naked, tattooed woman on a golden throne.

He did not recognize her.

"Make him yours."

"_SILENCE. AWE. RESEPCT. LOVE. SUBSERVIANCE._" She coughed and wiped away a tiny amount of blood from the corner of her mouth.

Yomazu was on his knees. Weeping with arms outstretched to her. His expression was one of alarmingly overwhelming worship. For her.

This man who had once attacked her … once injured the man she loved … worshiped her. For the first time, she felt a rush of confidence that did not come from her brother.

"Perfect." Levy shuddered at the hard pleasure in Gavin's voice.

"_FREEZE. STIFFEN. SOLIDIFY. STONE._"

And her temple had a second statue.

"Gavin," she coughed again. So many words. In a day – less than a day? – she had given birth to so much. It was exhausting her. Her magic was beginning to feel abrasive; though, she did not feel weak. Just injured.

"Right. You need a second transfusion. I think we will bring in a few more statues and then gather another donor."

"Yes, Gav-ARG!" she pressed her hands to her eyes. The chains (_SYMPATHY_) on her thigh tightened. Her green hands brightened to yellow (_PROTECTION. WARNING._).

"Your _GUARD_ is falling," he told her. As if she were not aware.

_Fairy Tail._ A rapid rush of joy briefly surpassed Gavin's beguilement, and she stood.

"_RELEA-_"

A fist hit the back of her head and the charm on her throat spread to cover all of her. She screamed as it pressed in from all directions. The sound of her punishment echoed in her – _her_ – temple.

When Gavin released the enhanced spell, she was prostrate and sobbing. "Do not disobey me. I thought that was established."

"Y-ye-s, Gav-in." She coughed and her blood darkened the mosaic tile that covered the floor.

"I promised not to kill your guildmates, but only if you obeyed."

She heaved, clutching her throat. Wanting to cry-out, to beg, but his grasp was too strong.

"This is your one warning." He pointed next to the statue of Yomazu. That statue she had made, where now his chicken-like partner Kawazu stood, brought to them through Gavin's magic. "I can't create," her brother told her, "but death is easy."

Kowazu, all six bloody parts of him, littered the floor of her temple.

"Anyone, dove. I can treat anyone to the same end. I will tolerate no further rebellion. Understand?"

"Yes, Gavin."

"You act for _me_."

"Yes, Gavin."

"You create for me."

"Yes, Gavin."

"You protect me."

"Yes, Gavin."

He grinned, "Then guard the temple."

"_GUARD_." She had a thought, "_VIEW_." The word appeared as dark glass. She closed her eyes, voice breaking, "_OUTSIDE_." The two words together showed her, and her brother, what was happening outside her shield.

The muscles at her shoulders were hard with stress. All of Fairy Tail stood ready at her door. Freed had his sword out, attempting to write away her word. It wouldn't work. She knew his power, and it could no longer match hers. In other places, her _GUARD_ was being attacked by fire, ice, steel, iron, maelstroms, lightning, wood, sandstorms, fists the size of carriages...

She laughed. They would not match her. For years – YEARS! - she had been weak. No longer. The blood of her family. The blood of two of the strongest wizards in Fiore. Her own blood, stronger than she had allowed herself to believe.

Her throat was so warm.

She would show them. She would show them what she could do. When her own was attacked.

"Protect me, dove," Gavin whispered in her ear.

"Bring me a man," she demanded.

"Preferences?"

"Mmmm, blood... Bring me Ivan Dreyar." And – like magic! – the former Raven Tail master, who was Makarov's son and Laxus's father, was given to her. A gift. On his hands and knees.

"_SYMPATHY_." She touched the chain tattoo. Looking at Makarov and Laxus through _VIEW_, she did so a second time. "_SYMPATHY_."

"Technically," she told Ivan, neck burning with righteous elation, "I don't need you for this. But my temple needs more statues, and it's more efficient this way."

The chains of _SYMPATHY_ caught Makarov and Laxus.

"_KNIFE_." With her own two hands, she pushed the word into Ivan's side. _VIEW_ showed father and grandson clutch their own sides. Makarov lost size. Laxus lost electricity. "_CLUB_." Levy offered the weapon to her brother.

"No, dove. This is your foe to slay. We can add the story of it to the walls when you finish."

"Yes, Gavin." She lay into Ivan with _CLUB_. Shoulders. Hands. Groin. The sounds he made were clearly pained, but she knew physical strength wasn't where she excelled.

She could do better.

"_WHIP_." Her oldest weapon. One sharp flick of her wrist, and a line of red opened this skin of his face. "_PAIN_."

_VIEW_ showed her most of the guild – Freed included – had rushed to their Master and Laxus's side. Juvia was yelling and pulling at the chains.

Lucy, Jet, Wendy, and Gajeel continued to attack _GUARD_. Levy sighed.

Enough.

She dismissed _SYMPATHY_ and _WHIP_. Ivan had a hand over his face, and the other clutching his side. Terrified. Confused.

"Gavin? Will he make a good statue now?"

"Perfect, dove. Add him to your collection."

"_FREEZE. STIFFEN. SOLIDIFY. STONE._"

"And Fairy Tail?"

"I don't want anyone to die."

"You don't have to kill them, little sister."

She dismissed _VIEW_ and walked to the door of her temple. Perhaps – like Yomazu – they did not recognize her. Or perhaps they could not or did not want to believe. But, after a long moment of quiet, her name was whispered, yelled, from more than a dozen mouths. They – minus a few who remained by Makarov and Laxus – ran for her, pressing against _GUARD_.

Questions, so many questions: Was she okay? Why was she here? What was going on? Why was she naked? She answered none of them. Instead, she held her palm up and swept it left to right, so that the entirety of her audience might see.

"_SLEEP_," she commanded.

Every one of them fell.

"Not all that attractive in our entryway," Gavin was once again at her side. "I think I'll send them home." He, too, lifted his palm, making the whole of Fairy Tail vanish. Except one. "We'll keep the water witch. You need another transfusion."

"Yes, Gavin."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the wait. I didn't want it to be so long.

I'm feeling a bit down about this to be honest. According to the stats, I'm losing a lot of readers, chapter to chapter. I've spoken to a few readers about things they wanted cleared up, and I've tried to address a few of those issues in this chapter, but if anyone else has questions … or honest criticism, please share it with me. I'm really not happy with the way this is going right now...


	7. Chapter 7

Hawk

Chapter Seven

She looked at her hand (_Her. Hand._) and watched as her fingers began to fade. Juvia's magic was hard to focus. Or rather the foundation of that magic transferred through Juvia's blood was hard to focus.

'Fingers,' she thought, 'you are fingers on a hand on an arm on a shoulder on a torso connected to another arm, two legs, and a head that is _LEVY_! You will remain fingers!'

Her skin tingled with her power. It was her power now. Born of the blood of others, she – this new she – was a child, newly risen. Her power incubated in the life-creating _Word_.

"Levy."

"Yes, Gavin."

"Your first followers have come. Greet them."

She lifted her chin. _STEEL_ sharpened, and her _WINGS_ rustled in their two-dimensional confinement. "I am a god. I am not required to greet mortals."

She was a god. Gavin had made it so. It was remarkable how much she could see. Could know. She had only two eyes, but the _Word_ told her the thoughts and actions of all those near her.

_Gavin shifted in his chair. The back of her throne showed only a glimpse of her blue hair, which was fuller and more radiant than it had been only a day earlier. He wanted to see her face. Needed to gauge her emotions._

_He flexed his fingers to test his power. Pen in hand, he verified that the charm on her throat still tied him to her. A small rune, and he gave her a measure of pain, not too-_

She grit her teeth as her throat burned. Her attitude had angered him; she knew that, but she had been made a god, just as he desired. Attitude, she reasoned, was necessary.

_- much, but enough to remind her of his dominance._

_She was more assertive than he had expected her to be – especially after only two transfusions – but he could use that._

"_You are right, dove. Forgive me." He stood-_

And Levy switched her focus to those poor peasants kneeling between the various statues she had created. But for one, they were strangers to her. That one, however-

_His eyes saw gray and gold. The gold before him shined, and he reached for it. He needed to touch it, and to be a part of its glory-_

"Come," she told Hibiki Lates. "With me, the expanse of knowledge is infinite. The reach of your power will grow, deepen. Your archive will encompass history to predict the future."

"Yes, Lady."

"Give yourself to knowledge, to the _Word_, and it is all possible." Gavin had, after she accepted the transfusion from Juvia, provided her with speech after speech that she could use on those people who came before her, but she liked none of them. Instead she used simpler ideas of growth and betterment.

Not everyone wanted to rule the world, whatever Gavin believed.

"Yes," Hibiki said. "I give myself to the _Word_."

"_MINE_." She spoke the solid script word with pride. She was beginning to see the idea of taking followers differently than Gavin did. He would see them as slaves. She believed they might be more like her Fairy Tail partners Jet and Droy. Subordinate. She led, but she also supported them, as they in turn supported her.

Using the _Word_ just made the contract a little more formal. And permanent.

A feather drew itself on his cheek. _He felt a rush of warmth enter his body. Satisfaction filled him. And pride. He had done something good. Was now a member of his most valued-_

Hibiki's thoughts were of no use to her. She gave her attention to the rest of the group. Those strangers. None of them had much in the way of strength, but that meant she did not have to offer them much to bind them to her.

"_SYMPATHY_." The chain on her thigh glowed, and she wrapped the word around her people.

_They gazed upon her face, reveling in the pulse of common thought and connection. She called to them in a voice that was inescapably moving. He wanted – and she asked – the bindings of that – she in her great – how could one-_

Nineteen minds pushed in on her, so Levy let go of the words that filled them. She could read their stories at a later date. Gavin was growing impatient. She could feel it through the pulse of the maroon circle on her chest.

She now had a group of twenty people. Twenty to start. That was good, but it wasn't enough to satisfy Gavin-

_Where, he wondered, could he find better-_

-who wanted her legend to grow and grow and grow, and with it his own.

"Hibiki. You will stay with me. The rest of you will return to your home towns. You will write of the _Word_ and the woman, the god known as Levy, who commands it. _MISSION_." Despite the complexity of the word and order, she did not cough. No blood speckled her mouth. She smiled.

She smiled and her brother did not fault her for it.

'Should have thanked Juvia,' Levy thought. But then she would have had to wake her up, and Gavin wouldn't have liked that.

"_MISSION,_" she said, nineteen times in total. Feathers adorned nineteen more cheeks. "I will bless with gifts those who bring me words. The greater the word, the greater the gift."

All but Hibiki bowed. He walked to her, going on one knee to the left of her throne.

"_BENCH_." She spoke for him, a gift for future service, so that he would not injure his knee. A small gift, but-

-_ it was a gift from one he greatly revered. His heart swelled as he took his seat next to his god, filling in a-_

"Gavin. Send them home."

Her brother made no reply as – one by one – her followers disappeared from her temple.

_After they were gone, and she turned to address her new disciple, Gavin realized that she ordered his actions, and he had complied. That was not acceptable. _

"_Dove," he spoke to the back of her head. She did not turn; though, her tone was tame enough._

"_Yes, Gavin."_

"_Decide on a plan of action. Who will your third transfusion be? I picked for the first two, but I believe that you now understand your place. You will chose the third, and I will judge your choice."_

_It irritated Gavin that she continued to face away from hi-_

Levy discontinued her reading from her brother's story. There was nothing surprising there. It made sense that he was beginning to resent and fear her growth.

"I will consider candidates carefully and give you final say, as is only proper, brother." The runes on her throat tingled, but she felt it as pleasure. Good. She needed to keep him happy.

He was all she knew of love.

* * *

In their first two days together, Gavin had left her alone only to sleep. On the third, it seemed he was going to be more lax.

_She would, he knew, stay within the confines of his temple. He had other concerns that needed addressing now that she was obedient. There were preparations to be made for the next-_

And he was gone. He did not bother to tell her where he would be or when he would return.

Which opened a world of possibilities to a new god without a master.

The temple was quiet, with only her – and Hibiki, who was silent. Looking at the man, Levy smiled again. It was getting easier to do, and she found she enjoyed it. Cautiously, aware of Gavin's, Levy attached _SYMPATHY_ as well as _PROTECTION_ on the man. It was inevitable that she would displease Gavin again, and when she displeased him, she hurt. She did not like that. The possibility she was beginning to consider allowed that the pain could be shared, divided. By sharing, she could lessen the effects on herself.

She did not like being in pain.

She pondered over the tiny plan, _which was in no way a rebellion_, for several hours. Gavin returned in a blink, and seemed immensely pleased with whatever he had accomplished.

"Dove."

"Yes, Gavin."

"You need to rest, now. I will send you back to the house. Your servant will remain here. Tomorrow, you will tell me your choice for the third and final transfusion, and we will devise a miracle or two to spread the myth of the god Levy."

"Yes, Gavin."

* * *

He commanded she 'rest.' For Levy, she often 'rested' with a book in bed. There were books in her room, but she had read them all as a child, years ago. Reading one of those would be frustrating, not restful.

There were books in her Father's study. _Gavin's_ study. Books about magic. Her magic. How they did what they did to her. Learning about herself seemed restful. Not having to worry about others, just studying her own self. Restful.

She wasn't defying Gavin. She repeated the thought over and over and over as her throat and chest tightened. Not defying. She was a god of Language. Words. She needed to know herself in order to follow Gavin's will. And it _would_ help her relax. As Gavin commanded she do.

The tension in the beguilement charm and the maroon circle of dependence eased. The circle on her chest warmed until she felt pleasantly sleepy. Almost slow. But she was still interested in _relaxing_ with a book or two. Or three. Or more.

She left her room to visit what would always be her father's domain. No matter what Gavin said, this was the place her father lived, away from the dungeon. And even she had some power in the dungeon. Power to hurt. Though, it was borrowed power, much like what she lived on now.

Oh.

That made sense. Father had been doing this to her, too. The dungeon wasn't just about stealing power from her brother's blood and pain, controlling her brother or Father controlling her, but also about her learning what it was to control.

And it was there, as a child, in that place that she learned how to own a small space of power, all her own, in the middle of a room designed to confine and control her.

Interesting.

The room was cold. Books lined the walls, but those she ignored. The ones on the desk and floor were the books Gavin focused on, so they were the books she went for first.

Each book was annotated. Extensively. Cross referenced in her father and brother's hand. Their script writing was almost identical. Sloppy, unlike her own, which was not only legible, but also beautiful. Which was good; a god of words should have handwriting superior to that of most others.

She went through three books – making use of the old glasses she found in the top desk drawer – before she found what it was she was looking for.

Long-term effects.

It did not make sense that Gavin, who so obviously desired control, domination, would put that control in the hands of another. _(She did not think Gavin was wrong, she only wanted to help Gavin. She was _not_ disobeying Gavin. She was not rebelling by asking questions...) _Even if he was pulling the strings of that other. The hand on his throat gave him some amount of her godhood, but it was still her voice and her power that were needed to make it all possible.

_She_ was the one being called 'god.'

A prideful man – and Gavin was certainly a prideful man (_a prideful man that she loved very much_) – would not be able to keep the status quo for long. He would need life to turn further in his favor. Thus, there had to be a trick somewhere in this ritual.

The phrasing of the effects of power theft through blood transfusion was complex, and not exactly easy to translate into a simple list. As best she could tell, Gavin was doing the process properly:

Three transfusions were recommended, four if the donors or receivers were especially weak, spread out over seven days. The closer the donor was in blood and power, the safer the procedure would be. But, of course, since the goal of the spell was usually to expand power, similar or equal magics were rarely the case.

If the blood and power were different, the spell became dangerous. As was only logical, the greater the difference, the greater the danger. To the point of being fatal. The clearest statement was that the long-term effect was death. And by 'long-term,' the book seemed to mean 'really, really quickly.' 'Long' only in the fact that it was an effect that came at the end of life... that effect BEING the end of life.

Within two months of the first transfusion.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Soooo … who else MAD fangirled over the last manga chapter? Cuz I probably woke my neighbors screaming when the page loaded. My cats probably thought I was losing my mind. Y'all who are just doing the anime. Missin' out. SOOO much.

SPOILERS:

Not JUST a Gajeel fights chapter, not JUST a Levy and Gajeel chapter, but a chapter in which LEVY is the savior and GAJEEL is our damsel in distress character. Good googly. I might print it out and hang it on my wall.

END SPOILERS.


	8. Chapter 8

Hawk

Chapter Eight

What was the point? She would die in _two months_?! What in the whole of Earthland was the _point_?!

Levy followed the hints of cited sources in her brother's annotations in a desperate attempt to find out more information. The ritual was unfinished. She had only been through two transfusions! Would she … were the effects … would she...

Her chest cooled. Painful. As if covered in ice. Too close. Too close to doubting Gavin. She gasped. She moaned. Her brother. She wouldn't doubt. He was always there for her. Her brother; she would follow him.

She closed her eyes and remembered the first time she and Gavin secretly visited the study:

* * *

"_I want to take you there. You'll be safe with me. I promise."_

_Levy shook her head. She was five and at her most unsure. In a year she would finally adjust to the downstairs horrors. Acclimate to the feel of a whip handle slippery with sweat. Her father's voice would not sound as loud, and the threat of tears would all but disappear._

_But that was still a year away. She was five, not six, and Father's study was the sort of hell she could not begin to imagine. The sounds she heard slip under the closed and locked door... But Gavin wanted a book. Gavin needed someone to watch out for their father. Gavin was what Levy loved most in the world. Away from the dungeon, Levy would do anything for him. She would di-_

* * *

"No... no, no..." she whispered at the memory. Wrong one; wrong one. The mornings. The breakfasts. The times when Father's clients came to visit, staying overnight. Those magical days and weeks when they felt safe enough to hold hands under the table.

She clutched her head and reached for something happier.

The weekend when they had more company than beds, and Gavin stayed in her room for three whole days:

* * *

_She was seven; he was a hair shy of thirteen. He was much bigger now. Almost as tall as Father, and already broader in the shoulders. There was something indisputably hard about him that existed in no other person Levy ever saw._

_Even though she was very small and they could have easily shared her bed, Gavin insisted on sleeping on the floor next to the door. She didn't understand why, but he was very serious about it._

"_Stop. This, dove, is where I'm sleeping. No more discussion." Just as there were two Levys and two Fathers, there were two Gavins, and the upstairs Gavin was getting super bossy as he got older. _

"_But-"_

"_Dove..." his eyes narrowed, and she swallowed the rest of her words._

"_Okay. Whatever."_

_He grinned, fast and sharp, a lightening strike of joyful success._

"_Gavin?" she hesitated, but he was in a good mood, and she was not tired._

"_Yup?"_

"_Tell me a story?"_

_He was silent for so long that she worried she had insulted him. He never yelled at her, never hurt her like Father did, but Levy was always wary. He was all that she knew of love, but love was sly all the same, and mysterious. She didn't want to make him angry. She didn't want him to hate her._

_But he didn't yell, and – in another short series of moments – he began to speak._

"_Long before the dragon kingdom fell, there was a mighty warrior, who was also well-versed in the history of the world. He-_

* * *

Levy's breathing was even, but her eyes burned. Her cheeks were slightly warm, as if anticipating a future of tears. She did not, did not, did not cry.

Her thumb brushed the spine of the book she was holding, and she strained to keep the echo of her thirteen-year-old brother's voice in her ears.

Legends.

_Every god needs an origin story._

Levy opened the book, but she knew what she'd find before she read the printed words.

It was the transfusions that killed. The pressure put on the body from assimilating the foreign power and recycling the foreign blood was too much. The ritual needed to be quick so that all three rounds of transfused properties existed in the host body at one time, but that meant the body was forced to hold both more blood and more magic than it was capable of safely containing, with no time to adjust to the change.

The book offered two examples to help illustrate the effects.

First, it compared it to baking a cake. If you were to take all of the ingredients needed and put them into a pan without any mixing, they wouldn't fit well into the pan. But mix them together smooth, and the pan would be able to contain them.

Bake that mixture, and the cake grew, potentially plumping up so much that it became larger than the pan. She was the mixing bowl and the pan.

That analogy wasn't so bad. Basically, it told of what would happen if she survived the ordeal. The power would be larger than she would, and it would be awkward and misshapen, but it might still be okay.

The other comparison – the less optimistic comparison – was to overfilling a bag. Eventually, it just becomes too much, and the bag can no longer stretch. The seams would rip. The bag would break.

But. _But_. If you take that ripping bag and slip it into a just slightly larger bag... Even if the smaller bag fell apart, the larger bag could hold the packing.

Levy knew that she was a pretty small bag.

_If the blood is the same … safe …_ He was her brother. From their father's murder, he had gained something of Father's power. Magic of words. Just like her. _Close … safe._

Origin stories. _She _was Gavin's mixing bowl. His small bag. Gavin's origin story. What was it he told her? Master of a god is more than a god.

She was his foe. She would be his statue. He let _her_ gather the power and let the blood recycle in _her_ body. Until it was _hers_. Until it was no longer foreign. Then, all he would need is one transfusion. One. Maybe a death. Probably a death. And he would have what she had.

She was made into a god-like mortal.

Gavin _would_ become a god. Or as close as a human could be to one.

"Doing this will kill my Gavin," she told her throat and chest. "If I let him do this, it is basically letting him die. Letting him die is a betrayal of Gavin. I must protect Gavin. And my temple. I will protect them. I will protect them by stopping _me_."

She didn't want to die, but Gavin told her to chose a third. A third would kill her. A stronger, more distant third would kill her faster.

Gavin wouldn't approve a donor who was weak. And he wanted a greater range of powers. Based on who he chose for the first and second rounds of transfusion, he wanted non-script mages. Distant blood; distant power. She would die so quickly...

She could not harm Gavin-

She heaved. And heaved. And heaved. But she had not eaten recently. Nothing came up. There was nothing at all inside of her but the power, and it scorched her. Her insides were raw as the power boiled and tore at her as it located a tiny doubting-imperfection in her subconscious.

Levy wanted to hurt Gavin.

All she knew of love.

She didn't want to die.

Gavin needed her to die.

All she knew, absolutely all she knew of love.

She heaved and wanted to scream.

No tears.

No crying.

It hurts. It hurts.

Oh, please. Please. Please.

She balled up her hands and pushed against the maroon circle between her breasts. One hand twitched and she curled it around her throat, squeezing.

Had to concentrate. Had to breathe. Couldn't. Couldn't be. Couldn't be caught doubting. Couldn't. Had to. Needed. Needed to speak!

"_CALM!_" the word ripped from her vocal cords and emerged dripping with blood. She wrapped her arms around it; it was softly glowing despite the red droplets. Clutching it to her, her breathing slowed. With deliberate care, Levy pushed it into the core of her physical self, absorbing the _CALM_ with a aborted sob and a low-pitched groan.

Okay. Okay. Okay.

Okay.

She still felt awful, but she could think. All parts of her were sick and aching. Why?

Ah.

_Stress is not restful. _

She had to sleep. Gavin wanted her to sleep. Levy pushed off of the floor of her father's, of Gavin's study. The steps between the horrible books and the bright, happy lie of a room that she once called her own were long and hard.

Crawling into bed, she continued to take deep breaths. Deep breaths. She closed her eyes. Deep bre-

_Well, that was easier than he thought it would be! A quick trip, and now he could take time to read. Even years later, he still hated that damn study room, but it was the best place to hold all of his books and notes, so here he was._

_He wiped his hands on his shirt, though there was no need. If he were flexible enough, he would pat himself on the back._

_The plan was moving faster than he expected. He was pleased to find that his bastard of a father had underestimated his little sister's power. He had expected more trouble from her guild, but with one word she took them out of the equation. _

_Impressive. And useful._

_Now, only two more problems to cross off the list. Levy would be sleeping, so he wouldn't have to worry about her as he studied the transfer spells again, to prepare for the second half. _

_He paused, reconsidering. She _was_ progressing faster than he had expected. It wouldn't be a terrible idea to reinforce the control charms. _

_He walked quietly, so as not to disturb her sleep, and touched the door kn-_

Deep, steady, _CALM_ breaths, with the sheets covering her up to her chin. She was asleep. She was asleep, and he would knot know that she had done anyth-

Heat! Heat burned her flesh, and she sat up. Did he suspect? Levy reached for the power to read-

_He watched her face; She was confused, he thought, wary. Suspicious. Though, the lines decorating her skin made her expressions slightly difficult to read. _

"_How is your rest, dove?"_

"_Feels too short. I'm so tired, Gavin."_

_Which gave him a perfect reason for boosting the charms. Not that he needed one with her, but keeping her trust was no poor thing. "Here, little sister. I can help you sleep." Adding a small comfort rune to the beguilement was not difficult. _

_She softened visibly as the pen touched her throat. Good._

"_Think you can sleep better, now?"_

"_Yes, Gavin."_

_Good. Very good._

He turned to leave, but she wanted him to stay. For a myriad of reasons, Levy needed him to stay. She read _death_ on his hands, and there was a sated heaviness in his eyes that frightened her. Neither touched him when they were together in her temple.

"Tell me a story." She tried to match the tone of the request with that of her younger self. Her voice hadn't changed so much. It would reso-

_-nated with him. The words made him see her as she once was. So small. Her hair a foot longer and several shades lighter. Fine and soft, a baby still, when compared with his hair. With him._

"_Gavin?"_

_Even as an adult, that voice of hers was too sweet. How many times had he accepted extra beatings because she wanted a story and he hadn't been able to deny her? Even knowing Father would punish him, he always-_

Punish?! Levy gasped, but Gavin was too deep in his memories to notice.

_-gave in._

"_Um," she mumbled, "I'm sorry. You don't have to."_

_Her expression was clearer. Guilt. He felt a rush of pleasure. That his silence provoked insecurity in her was proof of his control. _

"_No, dove. I would be glad to tell you a story. Any requests?" He sat, as he always had, on the floor beside her bed, and crossed his legs._

"_Would you tell me about … about after you left? The things that you did? You know my life, but I don't know yours."_

"_It's not that interesting," not to someone like her, who never strove for power beyond her grasp._

"_You're my brother," she said, as if that was the only reason she needed. And that was reason enough for him, as well. _

_She was the only thing in the whole of Earthland that he ever cared for. She lived in his heart, and giving her a story wouldn't damage him._

"_You do need to sleep," he reminded her, "so I'll tell you a quick one." If he could think of a Levy-friendly story._

"_Tell me anything. I know who and what you are. You don't have to worry. I want you to tell me what you did during our years apart."_

_He chuckled, thinking to intimidate her, but this time there was no fear in her. "You don't know what you're talking about."_

"_I'm a fabricated god. I know much."_

Levy was taken aback by the laugh that followed her rather cocky remark. It was … It was genuine. She was certain of it. It wasn't just pleasure she read in the sound, but pure humor and more than a small touch of pride.

He gave her glares and pain to scare her, because that's what he learned from Father, but the moments of happiness were what frightened her the most. She pushed it aside and waited for the laughter to stop.

"My story is on the walls of my temple. Please, Gavin. Tell me your story."

He turned his lips down, but there were still bubbles of amusement in his shining copper eyes. "I'll tell you the abbreviated version of my life story. As I've said – several times now – you need to sleep."

"Yes, Gavin."

He cleared his throat. "Centuries after the dragon kingdom fell, a boy was born to a word mage..."

Levy smiled and listened carefully to his tale. Language was a powerful thing. And, as Gavin kept telling her, she was its god. Her charge was to protect him. Her duty as a sister, and her ability as a god required and enabled her to protect him. But if she were going to die, then she wouldn't able to continue protecting him.

She would need help.

Who was best at protecting?

Fairy Tail.

Her smile turned into a grin. Gavin grinned back at her and took her hand. For a moment, they were children. For a moment. She clutched at him, and let her love for him fill her.

To protect him.

She knew who her third transfusion would be.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the wait. I didn't mean to take so long!

I'm looking at two more chapters, I believe. Based on my current outline. Not much action in this chapter, but a bit of a glimpse at Gavin's reasons for hurting his sister in this way. No real emotional reason, but still we've got something of him here! His character, I think, is too simple. I'm hoping to complicate that a bit in the next chapter.

As a final two notes:

1. Please, in your reviews, I ask that you not give suggestions on how to finish this story. I mean absolutely NO offense by this request! I know that some authors make requests, but I would rather not. Usually I have a plan already constructed with a specific ending. If that's the case, I'm not very likely to switch that up for a different suggestion. If you happen to hit on the ending, I don't want to follow that line of suggestion because I want to write from my own imagination.

2. Thank you so much GUEST reviewers! I usually send PMs to reviewers, but I can't do that for you wonderful folks! So, my darlin's, please accept my sincere thanks here! THANK YOU!


	9. Chapter 9

Hawk

Chapter Nine

The story he told her was heavily censored. She knew because she continued to use her power to read the story, the chapters, he wasn't telling. The things he didn't say cooled her blood. Dark red ice crystals formed inside her, both from the chill of each page of his past, and the punishment the runes gave her for thinking poorly of him.

The first part, the prologue, she already knew. From birth to the age of 15, Gavin had suffered at Father's whim. At Father's hand. At hers. After killing Father and allowing – ALLOWING! He always knew how to find her! - her to escape, he refused to accept further suffering.

Part two was his true beginning. Of his story. Of this life. This new life and the new Gavin that touched her now. Pushing hair away from her eyes. He had walked dark roads. Hurt people, a good many people, girls and women who looked like her. He always knew where to find her; he never came for her. But that did not mean she was free from his blame or his hatred during that time.

He always blamed her. Always hated her. Always loved her.

She was not free from his hatred, but she still lived in his sweetest – his only sweet – memories. His bitter hate of her could not overcome the sweetness of their letters and breakfasts and bedtime stories.

Levy wondered: If he had killed her, would his bitterness have faded? Could he have moved on in a world that no longer had a Levy? All those girls, those little, blue haired girls with big brown eyes. Would they still live today?

Gavin told his story, and she regretted her own survival. Not only because the beguilement and obedience/dependence runes forced her (_helped! Helped her!_) to see her brother's life and happiness as more valuable than her own, but also because her own contributions in life could hardly compare to the potential such a large number of people might have.

He told her of his travels. He'd been to every corner of Fiore, and even outside it. He told her of the people he met, the partners he'd taken to scam them of money, but he didn't mention the many ways he hurt them. His unspoken descriptions, which were bold and large and easy for her to read as they hung in the air between them. The torture. The scars he left on others, as copies, echoes of the scars that lingered on his own skin. Heart. Mind.

As he grew older, partners were fewer. He spent years 21 through 23 robbing banks, casinos, and other wealthy establishments. He spaced out the crimes and took what they could afford to lose. With teleportation, he did not have to be in the building to steal the property. Every case connected to a crime he was responsible for was still open.

He left out that he used the money to begin duplicating Father's experiments on strangers. Practicing. Rehearsing. He left out the gallons of blood spilled in his search for godhood and mastership.

Then word spread of her death. He stopped stealing and put his experiments on hold. He would need a new script mage. He would have to start from scratch on a child without their father's preparations. And, also, he mourned.

She was shocked. That golden glow, which still surrounded him in her vision and her soul, trebled. Levy had read his thoughts of how she lived in his heart, of his love for her, but the depth and truth of the words detailing his reaction to her supposed death on Tenrou moved her.

Tears, actual tears, touched the very corners of her eyes. Gavin wiped them away, so that they would not fall.

_Two months_, she reminded herself, ignoring the sharp pain in her chest. _Two month as a mixing bowl. As a slowly ripping bag. Two months and then death. He can't love me._

Her heartbeat stuttered, and Gavin blinked. "You don't believe me. You don't believe I missed you."

To agree would be a lie, since she had read the feeling with her own magic. But to disagree … she knew it to be true, she just couldn't connect the two sides of Gavin. She couldn't connect the feelings of his depression at her loss, to the feelings of hatred at her continued survival.

"I know you love me. But you hurt people I love. You hurt yourself." She tried to both appeal to the selfish side of him, while not abandoning all those others. Her phrasing was careful because she could not yet be sure how _I love you_ would sound coming from her charm-covered vocal cords.

"I feel no pain," he said. But there was a sharp edge to the thin _no_. Not quite a lie, but neither was it a full truth. He felt pain. All things living feel pain.

"You are not happy. The brief expressions of pleasure you've shown me these few hours have not come from internal contentment. You have become too like our father to be free of pain."

He stood, then, and grabbed her hair. Pulling her up so that her face was level with his. "How can you say such things to me? You obey me, protect me. _Love_ me. The runes demand that."

"I do love you," she told him, drawing upon the compulsion of those very runes. "I only wish to help you, Gavin."

"And if I were to say that it was your words that caused me pain?"

Her mouth clamped shut. She uttered not a single sound as he shook her before pulling her off the bed and throwing her on the floor. Sleep, apparently, was no longer his desire for her.

"Enough of this. Who is your third?"

"Pantherlily."

"Who? Oh. The cat. Are you a moron?"

"Exheed, not cat," she coughed as Gavin kicked her. His anger wasn't fading. Around him danced reasons, excuses. He was tired. Everything-

-_was going so well that he didn't trust it. Speaking with her, hearing her say how much she still loved him made him not want … He'd forgotten just how sweet her smile was. He'd forgotten how soft her cheeks and hair. He'd forgotten that she was his sister. _Stupid, of course she's my sister! _But he'd forgotten exactly what that meant._

_But he had to kill her. The goal was to kill her. Her power. He needed it. He'd spent half of his life striving for this very moment in time. He would kill her. It wouldn't be comfortable, and he would mourn her, Earthland witness it, he would mourn her for forever. _

_He was-_

-sorry for everything he did, but at the core of him, he still wanted what killing her would give him. And those contrary emotions led to him striking out at her.

Not surprising. Father had done the same. And he was so much like their father.

"Doesn't change your idiocy. Why the cat?"

She curled around her belly, trying to protect her soft areas, and then stretched because he wanted her open for attack, and it was her desire to do as he wished.

"Pantherlily is … you, right after you took … brought me home. You showed me Lily and told me how unique he was. How he would make an interesting donor. I agree. You gave me Mira for adaption, and Erza for strength. But Mira's adaptions are small things," not necessarily true, "while Pantherlily's contained-self and battle-self are almost completely different creatures. His entire body structure changes, not just his power or costume. Lily's not broken into pieces like Mira is. It would increase the base given with Mira's blood. The same is true with Erza. She is strong, yes, but much of that is training and strength of _will_. Pantherlily is physically powerful, strong. That adds physical strength to psychological strength."

His anger was dissipating. The contradictions in him were fading and were being replaced with interest and concentration and consideration.

"I did mention the cat, but I'm not entirely convinced it would be worth bringing in a non-human for such an important part of the spell. I'm not even 100 percent sure the transfusion would take."

She sucked in a breath, shocked at his admission of uncertainty. Instructions from the books in the study flashed before him, as he thought and processed what he had learned from them and how he had applied those instructions to her and his previous experiments.

She was careful how she answered, because she didn't want him to know that she had also read the books. He would not be happy with her, and she wanted so much for him to be happy with her. So she did not give herself away with her response.

"It is less that he is exheed, and more that he is _composed_ of magic. More so than a human. That will make the transfusion of power greater. He is also intelligent and competent and loyal; though, I'm not sure if those are qualities you desire. Or if they would transfer as well as the magic."

"I'm surprised you chose the cat and not your boyfriend." He was smirking. He was teasing.

A bruise was forming on her stomach.

She tried to return a shy smile to his laughing eyes, but she wasn't very successful.

"Gajeel is a dragon slayer. Though he is human, his power is different from that of another human or even an exheed. Gajeel was allowed to grow into his power gradually. Were I to take it all, now, I would go mad in a minute. I saw it happen in an extremely powerful friend who possessed synthesized dragon slayer magic. Gajeel is the real thing."

"If physical desire and growth are your only desires," he asked her, teasing apparently over, "why not your former master, Makarov."

"Outside of the growth, the Master's skills are mainly rune and spell casting, learned spells, not innate gifts. I already do those things. Any spell he knows, I can learn. So far, none of the donors have given me memories. Only power. So I wouldn't learn from him."

"The cat?"

"He is complete in his own magic. And internally strong in a way most are not. He possesses both confidence and humility. Secure in his own abilities and aware of his weaknesses. If hardship befalls him, he survives it." She swallowed, afraid she was going too far, but there was no punishment from Gavin's charms.

"Erza, Mira, and Juvia are all powerful, but they – and I – have internal weaknesses unbecoming of a god."

"You have given this more thought than I expected. I am not sure I approve of the choice, however."

"Yes, Gavin."

But it wasn't true. In his story, she could read his acceptance, and his pleasure at her decision. Then his eyes narrowed and he became alight with suspicion.

"Have you lied to me?"

She held her breath.

"Dove."

"Yes, Gavin."

"Tell me the truth," he growled.

"I don't want Lily. I want Gajeel. I want him with me." She shut her eyes tight and held back the tears, waiting for her brother to hurt her.

When no pain came, she opened her eyes to look at him. Gavin was smiling. Grinning. "But would he be a better choice than the cat?"

"I would go mad. Most likely I would die before the process was completed." Which would mean failure. Her brother's failure. She couldn't allow that.

"I am still not satisfied with the cat," _lies lies lies_, "but – after the dragon slayer, it is your first choice?"

"He is."

"I made this your decision, and I will honor that gift. Tomorrow we will bleed the cat."

"I don't want him to die," she said, as she had said so many times for so many people over the last day and some-odd number of hours. "So much blood, and he is so small."

"You say he can grow."

"Larger than Gajeel, even; yes."

"He must be in that form, then. Fairy Tail sleeps, even now, thanks to your words. Can you insure his growth won't wake him."

_Can you._

"Yes, Gavin."

"Then, tomorrow, will be your third and final transfusion." When he spoke, there was no emphasis on _final_, but through the _WORD_ and her new powers, she saw it as large and glittering, underlined and glowing.

_Final._

Yes.

He left her on the floor. If she wanted, she could read his actions as he reviewed the materials they would need for the ritual, but exhaustion was finally coming to claim her. She chose instead to sleep.

x

* * *

Perhaps it was residual memory from her theft of Juvia's blood; she dreamed of water. Or it began as water. Before she reached the rocky shore, the water tasted of rot and decay. Thick. Almost solid. Liquid, like fat and oil were liquid.

She could not identify the substance, but she knew she needed to escape it. Even sharp, the rocks were a better choice.

The rocks became smaller stones. The stones became pebbles. The pebbles, sand. Sand so soft it felt like the finest powder. She fell into that softness and let it coat her, covering the goo stuck to her skin. The goo dried; the powder dried. Cracked. Fell off.

She wept for the clean smell of her own skin.

And pine. She could smell pine. On a whim – d reams were all about whimsy – she left the shore of the false water, heading inland to search for tall trees in dark forests. Though the smell was strong, she never found them. For ages, all the ages of time, and all the time that was sleep, she searched.

There were no trees. There was no forest. Only powder. Soft. Empty. Blank. Nothing. Nothing at all.

x

* * *

There were a multitude of synonyms for _sly_ and _treacherous_ floating around Gavin when she woke. She managed a smile, but noticed that the golden glow surrounding him was somewhat dim. Worn plating more than a shining yellow sun.

Closing her eyes, she reached for the place within her chest where Gavin's control lived. It, too, felt weaker.

In sleep, her power had strengthened, and his … his had not.

Gavin was not a word mage. His word magic was stolen, through murder. His only lessons gained from observing others. He was good, _so_ good for one so poorly trained, but not quite perfect. She had suspected this from her being able to get away with half-truths. The more time that passed, the weaker the compulsions would be.

But she could not wait. She could not take that third transfusion. The one that would guarantee a quick death.

Gavin presented her with food, gallantly. She noticed that her green hands had again yellowed. The stars that dotted the arch over he breasts and collarbone were sharper. The hipbone eyes' pupils darkened. The lock on her knee was open.

The power was becoming hers.

More was happening here than Gavin had planned for. She was becoming too strong for any runes to hold her. God of language, indeed. If she _did_ take a final transfusion, it might not be as impossible as she had thought.

"Are we returning to the temple today?" she asked her brother. Her tone was as deferential as always.

Copper eyes studied her. His power yet held her, but even he wondered-

_-He wondered at the changing colors of her tattoos. The lines on her face were variegated blues, now. The darkest over her mouth, palest over her eyes. He watched her sleep, so he knew it was nothing she had done herself. _

_Gavin reached for his charms and found them in place and steady. The change had to be due to the evolution of her power-_

-She was relieved that he did not see it. That his power waned. The blood in her, which was merging and recycling and becoming something new far quicker than blood would normally replace itself, was enabling this breakdown. Levy also guessed that Mira's transfusion, her gifts, were helping. She'd fought against a sort of possession all of her life. In essence, that's what Levy's magic was doing.

"Would you like to return?" Gavin asked, snapping her from her thoughts.

She nodded. "I would like to check on Hibiki. I would like to see if any of my followers have brought offerings."

"You will need your transfusion."

"Can we not do it in the temple?"

"Mmmm," he looked pleased. "Yes. Yes, I think we can. Would make for a good symbol, I think; the final transformation of the god, in her shrine, before her throne. I like it. Still, we must do it soon. We can wait no more than two or three hours."

She read the lie in his words. Or rather the obfuscation. Not only because she could read his truth, feel it in her lips, but because she'd been using the same rhetorical style since he first touched her and could recognize it easily. The transfusion could be done at any time within the seven-day window. They had at least five days to complete the ritual.

But Gavin wanted it done. And Levy had no real reason to wait, either.

She did not contradict him.

He did still shine, after all. She did still love him. He was still the man holding the invisible chain, wrapped tight around her.

"Then we can do it whenever you want, Gavin. I can talk to Hibiki, and then you can bring me Pantherlily right away. I don't have to wait."

Her brother let her eat in relative silence. Even his thoughts were calm. She peeked into his mind and read contentment and happiness. The same contentment and happiness she'd claimed him of lacking the night before.

_He's happy,_ she realized. _Just being with me, he's happy._ It made what was coming next almost impossible to bear.

Hibiki was waiting for her on his bench. Back straight and eyes forward. She hadn't given him permission to rest. She hadn't given him food. Her face flushed with embarrassment and shame. Her _sympathetic_ connection to him translated well his hunger and exhaustion, as well as the tension in his lower back.

She was, in fact, a worse master to him than her brother was to her. Of course, she also wasn't _beating_ him, so there was that._ At least I'm not completely evil-_

She groaned. Internal process triggers were getting slightly easier to ignore, but they still caused her some measure of pain. Her snarky thought about her brother's abuse (_abuse abuse, no no no, he loves me!_) left her hiding gasps from him. She watched as Hibiki winced.

_SYMPATHY_ was working.

Good.

Time to take that a step further.

She touched her thigh, then Hibiki, and released the connection they had.

"Hibiki," she drew his gaze, and felt guilty at the disturbing combination of hollowness and joy, "have any others come?"

"No, Lady, but I waited for you." And he smiled at her, bowing his head.

She wasn't surprised, now that she understood Gavin's game. Likely all those people, those 19 people he brought to become her followers, were dead. That's why he reeked of death when he found her faking sleep the night before. He didn't need her to be a god to the world. What he needed was her to be a god to herself.

And then he could take that godhood from her. It was about him. Always about him.

Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around the Blue Pegasus mage. Closing her eyes and clutching him to her. "I'm so grateful, Hibiki. So grateful for your presence here. For your help. For your support of me."

"And his protection?" Gavin asked, only millimeters behind her. His breath was hot, his words a hiss.

She released her servant and turned to her brother. Replacing her empty arms with his almost-familiar shape. "No, Gavin. He supports me. But I am the one who protects, remember?" She was whispering now, her heart pounding. Her skin, every rune on her body, burning deep into her muscles. Scorching her bones.

She touched her thigh. "I _SYMPATHIZE _with you, brother. Your desire to make me stronger. Let me protect you."

In her mind's eye, in her magical vision, just as she was chained to him, he was chained to her.

"I love you," and it was true. The rune on her lips buzzed with the strength and truth of her declaration.

"I will bring you the cat," he told her, pulling away from her embrace. Though his face was soft, and there was no anger in his eyes. The glow around him increased, and her body tilted forward, attracted to the beauty of him. "You are sure you can make him grow without waking him?"

"I can."

Gavin tapped two fingers on his lips in thought. _(Even if she can, there are always outside forces at play, and the magic of this foreign race isn't perfectly understood. No need to let caution go just because she-) _"Yes, well, put a guard up over us just in case something goes wrong and he wakes during the blood transfer."

"Yes, Gavin."

Technically, her power was at a level that she did not have to use words or gestures, but she felt her brother might prefer seeing her work for results. He couldn't read what wasn't said or what wasn't happening like she could. He needed to see, so she let him see.

Hand raised, voice strong and clear, she spoke "_GUARD_." Three times. Likely her brother only intended her to protect him, and possibly herself, but Hibiki was – at the moment – hers. And she would do what was best for her own.

Gavin brought Lily to her. He put the exheed on the floor by her throne. Lily was limp with sleep, his small form breathing so softly that – had she not known better – she might have confused his sleep with death. She could read nothing in him; he did not dream.

"This is on you, dove." She looked back up at her brother. "You know your place. You know your goal. You know what is necessary." He handed her a box filled with needles and tubes. "Do your job."

"Yes, Gavin."

She knelt next to her friend, stroking his left paw. "_BED_!" she called, because she didn't want him to suffer on the cold, hard floor of her temple. Lifting him, she told her brother, "I'll put him on this, and sit next to him. It will be easier for both of us that way."

"A good thought." She swallowed; she had thought he would disagree. "I would also suggest spilling a measure of his blood on the alter. He'll be large enough, in his other form, to lose a bit more blood without dying."

She looked away from Lily to face her brother, "On the alter?" Remembering the books she read, she could think of no reason for such an act. But – because of the smile and the golden light in him – she underestimated Gavin's need for violence. It had, after all, been many hours since he last killed.

"To stain it, and to show those who come to us – to you – a reason to obey. Proof of your strength."

Levy could conceive of a dozen different ways to provoke loyalty and awe in a person, none of which would need a blood sacrifice (what Gavin was doing to her with his charms, for example) but Gavin wanted blood. And she wanted Gavin to be happy.

"I don't want to kill him."

"I keep telling you, dove; he won't die. Not here. Not by my hand."

"Or by mine." Her own twisting of words and feelings compelled her to make the statement. To read a truth in him, or a lie.

He smiled, "Or by yours."

_Truth, _her lips told her. Her eyes blurred for a moment in relief.

"Thank you, Gavin."

He walked to her and touched her cheek, brushing it as if wiping away a tear. "You are welcome. You know that I never want to hurt you, right? I only want what is best for you."

_Truth_, her lips told her. A second time. But relief did not follow. Slight pain answered her startled disbelief.

"Yes, Gavin," was her stalled response. "I never want to hurt you, either. I want … when we were little," her words were coming faster. Softer. God of language. She would make a desperate attempt to sway him. "When we were little, you were the only thing I lived for. I wanted us to be together, just you and me, for forever. I missed you so much. I thought about you every day."

With every syllable, his eyes narrowed. Hardened. His lips a thin line of anger. Her throat aching. Chest burning.

She did not understand. She thought it would make him happy! She locked her jaw tight so that she would not cry out at the sudden, overwhelming rush of agony that poured from him and into her.

"I … I..."

"No, dove. Levy. Sister," he hissed. "Traitor," he snapped.

She drew away from him, closer to Lily. Moaning as phantom hands of runes tightened around her windpipe.

"You ran away."

"...was...scared..."

"You had my note."

She whimpered, though the sound was muffled. "S...scared." Levy wanted to close her eyes against the pain, the look in his eyes, but she had to watch him. Had to understand.

"You chose Father over me." _Lie_, _lie_ the rune on her lips snapped at his statement. Not even Gavin believed it. "You chose that _guild_ over me." _Truth_. She said nothing in her own defense. "That _man._ That man over _me_."

_Truth. _True to him. True to her. But not completely.

"Nuh...nuh..._no_! I...am here. With...with you."

"You love him more than you love me." The runes loosened over her windpipe and she gasped. His shoulders were slumped; his eyes were dull.

Such an immature statement. Such a sad statement. The statement of a little boy who grew up infected with by torturous disappointment, emotional neglect, and physical abuse. Only to be separated from the one comfort he had in the world.

By the _stars_, she could not feel guilt so powerful even if she carved the very word into the flesh of her own heart.

He blazed gold in her vision. The beguilement charm flooded her body with endorphins. Her guilt, her sympathy, the magical constraint he had around her, all allowed Levy to answer the truth that those feelings gave her. Making her not Fairy Tail's Levy, but Gavin's dove. As Gavin's dove, she could say:

"No. No. You are my brother. My family. There is no greater love than that." She gave herself to Gavin's stolen magic, the word magic taken from their murdered father, the runes written with their dead father's pen. All she said was true, by the magic he placed on her.

He watched her, expression disbelieving. But he took stock of those runes and finally smiled. He smiled again, and she could smile back.

"I love you, too, dove."

And he did. She could read it in his thoughts and know it in the line crossing her mouth and the chains around her thigh. He was sick. Not so much evil as sick. It was the only explanation. But it was not good enough.

She swallowed. It was up to her to save him.

"Hibiki," she commanded her servant when the silence lengthened enough to tell her the conversation was over and her brother had calmed.

"Yes, Lady."

"Help me insert the needles." She adjusted Lily's body, and sat in a way that made it more difficult for her brother to observe her actions. Or Lily's face. She also directed Hibiki, with gestures, to do the same. Hibiki could watch, because Hibiki served her.

Her skin was cold. Her green hands dark. The lines on her forehead, eyes, and calves pulsed. She touched the chain on her thigh and pushed her hand under Lily to touch his guild stamp. She thought of the First Master and bent to whisper in Lily's small, rounded ear.

"_SYMPATHY_." So quiet that even a dragon slayer would not hear. If one were beside her. But there were no dragon slayers. Only Gavin. And Gavin did not hear.

One hand still on his mark, she used the other hand to touch the exheed's mouth, "_SILENT._" His torso and each of his four limbs, "_STILL_."

She closed her eyes and called up a memory – a memory so clear, so strong – of her own guild stamp, the beautiful mark of Fairy Tail. So close to Lily that the movement of her lips brushed the soft fur of his ear, quieter, safer, she whispered "_WAKE._"

And his eyes opened.

Not so far away, down a hill, in a town, two dozen other pairs of eyes did the same.

x

* * *

**Author's Note: **Here's the thing. ORIGINALLY, I _had_ planned on making Gajeel the third transfusion. ORIGINALLY, I was building on the statements in chapter 2 about Levy being Gajeel's white knight and rescuing him. ORIGINALLY, Levy was going to speak _WAKE_ into Gajeel's mouth. IE, Levy was going to kiss Gajeel awake, Sleeping Beauty/Snow White style.

Then "Air" released and pretty much shot that idea all to hell. SURE, I _could_ use it. But I wanted to do more than just copy a chapter that just came out. Even though I had the idea before the chapter dropped! I was going to go ahead and wait ANOTHER FT chapter, but I figured what the hell and decided to upload anyway.

(And, for the record, as to "Steel," I totally also had Levy make _air_ into bubbles for Gajeel to breathe/fight underwater in that old "Forever Night" fanfic I will likely never finish. Just sayin'. Lol!)


	10. Chapter 10

Hawk

Chapter Ten

"Levy?" Pantherlily was obviously confused. There were no answers she could give him that would not violate one of the many layers of control Gavin had around her.

She pressed her hand to her lower back, where the hilt of _STEEL_ was tattooed. She called it by name and unsheathed it from her skin. Blood flowed where _STEEL_ was removed, but Levy did not flinch.

There was no time, no time to explain, to catch him up, to make sure he understood. Lily was smart. It was all she had, all she could rely on. Lily was smart, and she would he...she would hel..._help!_ in any way that she could.

"I am to protect Gavin. I must protect Gavin. I guard him. You cannot kill him with your sword. I cannot kill him with my hands. Only words. It is only words that can pierce my _GUARD_, and you cannot make words." She trembled against the tightening grasp of the maroon charm, "Through your guild mark, all of Fairy Tail is awake, now. They will come, and soon. Hold him back, if you are capable of such a thing. I will fight you," her nails clawed at the flesh of her neck, trying to stop the words, the words that violated her protection. "Kill him if you...if you," she almost screamed. Must. Please. Please. Save me, Lily."

She touched her thigh, thinking of her brother. Then her stomach. "_ANCHOR_," she said and pushed it through her skin to his. _"ANCHOR," _she said a second time, touching Lily.

Her brother could not escape. Her brother could not throw him from the room.

The exheed took the hilt of _STEEL_ and – before she had time to give into fear, or Lily had time to react – she thrust her trachea onto the point of the blade. Lily's eyes were saucers. But she needed to stop her voice. And she needed the pain to disrupt her mental control over her powers. If she were whole, she would protect Gavin and kill Lily.

Weak and wounded, it would be up to them.

Levy fell, bleeding. No longer did her body conceal her actions. No more deception. Her brother could see. Her brother could understand.

Gavin realized her betrayal of him. Her second betrayal. Her worst betrayal. Deliberate. The one with most potential for fatality. For both of them.

"Levy!" he roared - no more _dove_, no more _sister_, and in tone that echoed with _bitch_ - and Lily looked to his enemy. He shifted into his warrior body and warrior stance, holding her _SWORD_ high, and launched his attack.

Though Levy had no voice to command him, Hibiki remained at her side. Propping her up. Putting a hand over her bleeding wound. Her murmured soft words of support, his breath was warm and sweet. Right now, he belonged to her. It was wrong, so wrong, but she leaned on him. She needed him.

The world grew hazy.

Lily's sword (_Levy's_ sword, which Lily wielded) pierced _GUARD_, as she knew it would, and Gavin waved his hand in a manner that _should _have proceeded teleportation. He remained in the room. In the path of the blade. How he stepped out of the way, how he avoided the blow, Levy could not tell. It was a close thing. A close thing, and Lily's hissing curse confirmed it.

Her head was heavy. It rolled sideways onto Hibiki's shoulder.

"Lady? Would you like to rest? There is the bed you made. I can lay you down here."

"She shook her head. She would pass out soon. Too much blood and pain. Until then, she would watch the fight she had created. Called it into existence with the power of her words. She would watch the exheed she had thrust into battle, all her hopes on his shoulders, fighting her battle for her. She owed him that.

Lily's swings were sharp, and there was such strength behind each move, but Gavin was not losing ground. He was quick. Rushing Lily to get inside his guard and attack him. Flesh to flesh.

Lily took several body blows, and Gavin was able to get low and then thrust up, upsetting Lily's center of gravity. The exheed tilted sideways, his swing briefly wild enough that Gavin was able to snatch the Musica sword from Lily's back.

And now her brother was also armed. Levy knew that Lily was an above-average swordsman, but Levy had read sword skills in Gavin's past. And he was no beginner. No amateur. He had killed with a sharp-edged blade equally as often as with his magic.

Little blue-haired girls, butchered.

Steel met _STEEL_, and a violent clash echoed in her temple. Over and over again, they met, and neither made a single strike connect on the skin of the other.

Then one did. And it was Gavin. And Levy hadn't planned on that. Lily was … Lily was drooping! Overslept. He hadn't eaten, and she was sure that the sleep had not been restful. Body stressed too quickly. Lingering magic. Levy wanted to give him help, but there was no question now that to help him meant hurting Gavin. She could not … could not...

Lily stumbled, but her worry for him was quickly replaced by pride in her brother's skill. Lily was talented, she knew. Even tired. He sparred with _Erza_, and that was no easy fight for anyone. Yet Gavin was doing more than holding his ground. Gavin was pushing Lily into a corner.

"Arg!" Lily took a wound. A sharp slice to his side. Bad place. It would slow him.

She didn't want Lily to die. Sure, Gavin had said he wouldn't kill Lily, but that was before he was attacked. He could very well change his mind.

And Lily had made no such promise. _Lily could kill Gavin_. He was still talented, even when tired. Still powerful, even when tired. Still a warrior, even when tired. He was recovering...kind of...

"You bitch!" Gavin cursed her without shifting his watchful gaze from his opponent. "You were meant to protect me! So do so!"

Lily could kill Gavin.

It was her charge to protect her brother.

Protect him. She touched her thigh. The chains. _SYMPATHY_. It was time.

Standing was difficult. She had lost much blood, not a mortal amount, but she was weakened, and Hibiki was moved to encourage her to rest.

"Lady, no! You're injured! You must not get up! Please, please, Lady, stay."

She could not command him, but the steady look in her eyes and somewhat obvious strength in her posture held back further entireties. He radiated concern, but he helped her to stand. Her will was his desire.

Briefly, Levy considered using him. Of making him do what she was about to do. But she rejected the thought immediately. Too, too cruel. A master should be kinder to her subjects. _That_ was the way to win loyalty. She wished Gavin could learn that.

She kissed Hibiki's cheek, and he blushed prettily. Ignoring any further protest, Levy walked – shuffled … stumbled – to the fight. Both men were too caught up in the struggle to pay attention to her.

The same _GUARD_ that had protected Gavin, still protected her. As it should, Gavin's stolen blade (_Lily's_ Musica sword) bounced harmlessly off of its surface.

_STEEL_, solid script formed by her own power and wielded by the hero she had gifted it to, did its work. The solid-script sword cut through her protections like they were little more than air. And cut through her flesh like she were little more than mist.

Left shoulder to right hip, she was cut. Severing the blood-red circle that bound her to the service of her brother.

_SYMPATHY _held, different rune writ by different magic, and Lily's direct hit on her translated to her brother. Gavin cried out behind her. With no vocal cords whole to scream, the alien sound _she_ made resounded through the temple as an eerie compliment to her brother's pain.

Gavin collapsed. She collapsed over him. Their blood mingled.

There was a crash at the door. She knew that. She heard that. She had been waiting for that. But had hoped for it to come sooner. Vaguely, she registered the frantic call of Lily's voice. Words, indistinct and melting stabbed what was left of her vision.

There was one word larger and sharper than all the rest. A name. It shone like black silver ore, and she longed for it.

In her role as the White Knight, she had awoken her many distressed damsels, who – in her secondary role as Witch – she had cursed with sleep. But real life was not always as smoothly plotted as old tales. Old tales spoken sweetly in the voice of her dearest love. Sitting next to her in bed and risking punishment just to make her happy.

No. In those tales there were joyful endings. This didn't feel joyful. It felt complex and pained. A knot too tight to unravel, and coated liberally in grief. So much blood – under her, on her – could not be happy.

Black hair. Dull metal. Worried expression. He shook her. Spoke words even she could no longer decipher. Crawling with language she could no longer read. As consciousness faded, she thought again;

_No. There's no happiness here._

_x_

* * *

Gajeel was on his knees beside her, having pulled her away from the dying body of the creature she had referred to as family. "What happened?! What happened?!"

There were other people there. Important people. People who were trying to help. As much as he wanted to push everyone away and take her into his arms, he held himself back. Letting them do their work. The cut was so deep. Identical to the one on her brother's body. So deep. Exactly the same.

So deep.

So much blood. He was no coward. No newbie wuss. He was a fighter. A killer, even. Blood held no surprises for his eyes or his emotions. The smell could not turn his stomach. Not even the taste made a mark on his composure.

He wasn't the smartest man alive, but he knew a little something about blood. Knew it well. Knew when there was too much outside of the body.

There was too much outside of her body.

Lily lost his impressive size, holding a luminous sword – one which Gajeel didn't recognize – away from his body. "I cut her." His cat was trembling. "She stepped between us, and I couldn't stop in time. And I cut her."

"So that you could cut him," an unfamiliar voice said.

All of the guild members in the … he supposed it was a temple turned at the sound of the foreign voice. There was a gasp or two at the sight. Gajeel recognized the face. The dirty blond hair. But the name was lost to him. And he didn't give half a shit about taking the time to remember it. Names didn't matter.

"Explain," he spat at the somewhat-familiar mage who was stroking a feather tattoo on his cheek.

"She took me a day ago at his command," he nodded at Gavin. "She made me hers and shared with me some of her power. As well as some of her pain. He controlled her, and through her, me; though, he never spoke to me directly. She was commanded to protect him. She promised to protect him. She had no choice but to try. But she fought in the way that she could," he walked from the bed beside the golden chair, to a small space at her side. "She shared her _self_ with him, chained him to her. What power she had, he could have drawn on, had he known, but the connection would work both ways. Had Pantherlily killed her brother, it would have killed her, too. Gavin was winning. Lady Levy stepped in, taking the blow to injure her brother before he could further injure Pantherlily. And you see, she succeeded."

"Succeeded?" Lily asked, looking like he wanted to throw the blasted sword away, but also unable to let go. His grip would tighten and loosen, tighten and loosen.

"She fought his control enough to give Pantherlily the sword, but she did as ordered to protect her brother. She protected him from Lily. So that Lily didn't kill him. She did. She killed him herself. The one thing he never made her promise. Stupid fool."

Gajeel licked dry lips and tried to pay attention. Tried to understand. Tried to...

"Is he dead?" someone, Gajeel was not focused enough to tell who, asked while over the bastard's body.

"No," that was Salamander. "He's breathing. Not much, though."

"As long as she's alive, he will be, too."

"I still don't understand how she broke through." Lucy was on Levy's other side. Her hand on Levy's pale shoulder. His own was touching that beautiful blue hair. Tangled. Sweat darkened. Beautiful. Still beautiful.

"Again, I'm extrapolating from limited information," the … Gajeel focused, he had to focus, where was... _Oh!_ the Blue Pegasus mage said, "but my guess is she was trying to kill him. That killing him was her way of saving him. And that taking the hit herself meant she took the pain. She wasn't hurting him. She was protecting him."

"It hardly seems possible," Lucy whispered.

"She could have done almost anything with the amount of power she was holding at that moment," _name... name... name... ah, right... _Hibiki's eyes glowed. "She is the closest thing this world now has to a god-in-flesh."

Gajeel smelled Wendy enter the building. He, _he of all people_, wanted to sob with the knowledge that the dragon slayer healer had come to save the day.

With far more calm than he had managed, the kid sank to the floor beside Lucy and studied her patient. It was clear from the expression on the girl's face that Levy had become a patient and not a dying friend. That she had separated herself from the situation. Her face was professional.

Wendy moved her hands over the weeping red wound. He didn't ask if the young dragon slayer thought she could save her. That Wendy was trying meant that Wendy had hope. Though, even in Fairy Tail "hope" didn't always equal "success."

"I'm going to heal organ, vascular, and deep tissue damage. I would rather not use up any magic on non-emergency actions, like surface bruising, small cuts, stitches, and the like. If someone could sew-" she stopped and looked at him, "or staple. Staples instead of stitches. Can you do it?"

He marveled at how calm the girl became when in such a desperate situation. A deep, emotional part of his own self was screaming. Screaming _no_ at the thought, at the word, at _staple_. His practical side nodded his head. The sword cut had been smooth – Lily had made the slice clean. Sharp sword. All the skin intact. Clean. Clean cut. Deepest at her shoulder and clavicle. Clean cut. Easy to staple. He just had to ignore exactly whose skin it was.

_Do the damn job, you fucking sap. Do the fucking job. Save her life._

"Where do you want me to start?"

"Her shoulder. It's deep there, but no underlying damage. I need to see to her intestines before you close her stomach."

Ah. So that's what that smell was.

He held up metal hands. "Salamander. Get your ass over here and sterilize these. Last thing we need is to make Wendy deal with an infection, too." Inside, his head was buzzing; body and thought were drifting apart. Had to drift apart. He hurt inside. Hurt. And hurt was useless. Worse than useless. Hurt was a weakness that would keep him from doing what needed to be done, and doing it properly.

So body and mind parted ways. For the job. To do the job. To save her. He had to save her. No. No. Wendy. Wendy had to save her. He forgot. He was forgetting that he had done nothing. Could do nothing. Had left her. Had _slept while she suffered_. Wendy would save her, but he'd do anything he could to help.

He swallowed a sob, the last piece of emotion he allowed himself.

"I could cauterize the wound," Natsu suggested while surrounding Gajeel's arms with flame.

"No," Wendy answered, fingers soft on the bleeding hole that opened her internal self to the outside world. "Too much added tissue damage if you burn her. No need to create more problems, like Gajeel said; I just want her closed up quickly."

"What about her throat?" the blond across from him asked.

Wendy shook her head, "After her stomach."

"Her back is wounded, too," Lily said. He held up the sword, "She pulled this from her back, and it bled."

"Again. After her stomach. Gajeel, close the wound for me. Then, then I'll get to the rest."

Gajeel was careful. He'd done this before. With his own wounds. Never caring how it looked or felt. But he thought she might care how it looked. And he knew _he_ cared about how it felt. How it would feel when she regained consciousness and had to spend days to weeks recovering.

Conscious. Awake. Herself. Herself, again. With them, again. Whole, again.

One-by-one, he pinched closed a small amount of skin, and pierced it with a thin needle of iron. Needle inserted, he then twisted and tied the piece like it was wire, or thread. Closed and secure, he moved down half an inch, and repeated the process. Over and over again. Left shoulder to right hip. There was a long pause just below her breasts and above her stomach – almost in the center of a large red circular tattoo – as it took Wendy longer to heal her internal organs than it took Gajeel to work his way down. But as soon as she was done, Gajeel stitched the remaining wound closed.

Finished, he rocked back onto his heels. Brain, body, and heart snapping back into place, he sucked in air like a man come up from drowning. He had sweat through his clothes and his skin burned as if Salamander had lit the whole of him on fire.

For the first time since he saw her, Gajeel looked away from Levy and gave his attention to her brother. "Are the bastard's wounds healing, too?"

Salamander rolled the body over so that Gajeel and the others could see. "Stopped bleeding and doesn't smell so bad, but no, your stitches didn't fix him the way the sword wound cut him through her. Wound's still there."

"Why?" He looked at the Blue Pegasus pretty boy. "Not that I want the asshole healthy, but why?"

"Perhaps because the rune that gave Gavin control of Lady Levy was bisected. But the chain of _SYMPATHY_ is still whole," he pointed to the long chain tattoo that wrapped around one of her thighs. "Mmm, but … it could be an active spell, so that it broke when she lost consciousness. I thought it was passive, since it held on me while she and I were parted. I knew that Gavin hurt her, even when I couldn't see it happen. I felt her pain, took it into myself. Had to be passive," he opened his magic and began typing, "but it no longer holds … why?"

Gajeel stopped caring. A noise. He'd heard a noise, and it came from under his hand. His hand that was covering her throat, waiting for Wendy to get to her throat. Her eyes opened, and they shouldn't have. They absolutely shouldn't have. Her skin was far too many degrees too hot; fevered. Her body dangerously low of blood and nutrients. Likely dehydrated. And the pain, even with Wendy healing her, there was so much to do. It wouldn't be perfect. There had to still be pain. There were still wounds, there would be pain.

But her eyes were open.

And her broken voice was screaming. He could feel it vibrate through his bones.

A shaking hand – pale, good god so pale – raised to touch his nose. Her thumb brushing over his lips. Then moved to tap the same chain tattoo that was bothering the archive mage. The eyes on her hips. She grunted. The stars on her breasts sparkled and the arch there glowed.

_'Gajeel, tell Hibiki that I still hold my brother.'_

"Levy?" Instinctively, he moved to grasp her. To grab hold of her. To-"How are you awake? How are you talking? You need-"

Lucy and Wendy both crowded her body, keeping him away with their own desire to be near to her. "She's awake?!" They looked from his face to hers, frantic. "Levy?! Levy, you're awake?!"

"How do you feel?" Wendy asked, hands running over the staples, cupping her face to study her eyes. "Can you breathe in for me? Your lungs are intact, but your diaphragm-"

Levy pushed the three of them back, hands still shaking, so that they would keep eye contact. The touches, gentle but firm, brought instant silence.

'_I feel him stirring, so I had to wake. Anchor is still attached, and he will remain asleep for another few hours. I think. I think my _SYMPATHY_ can hold him like this, a little longer. He must be taken to the new Council, now. He must be imprisoned. Hibiki knows. Tell them about the 19 people he killed. Just yesterday. Was it yesterday? Yes. Yes. I believe it was yesterday. Tell them that there are others. I read of so many others. The Council's Knights need to arrest him and keep him under lock and key._

_'Now, Gajeel. Please. It has to be now.'_

She coughed and the sound was … His hands were hammers. He pressed them into the floor until it cracked.

_'My part will also need to be told.' _She made a weak gesture that turned his focus from her to a statue in the corner. A statue of a man he recognized. '_I don't think he's still alive. Or any of them. Maybe he, maybe _they_ are. Maybe I can fix it. Not now, but when I have more energy. But maybe I can't. Maybe they're dead.'_

Her back arched and her stomach contracted as she dry heaved. Again, his insides buzzed with her unvocalized screams. He wanted to kill. Needed-

_'I'm okay. I'm okay_.'

"Like hell you are! Fuck the Council; I'll break his neck and we'll be done with all this shit. What they don't know-"

_'Gajeel! Do as I say! Hibiki to the Council, with my brother. Gajeel! Gajeel!'_ her thoughts pressed in on him, '_You can't hurt him. If nothing else, remember that hurting him will hurt me. Maybe you don't care about the law or anything else, but I know – _I know_ – that you care about me.'_

His muscles, every single muscle making up the entirety of his body, tightened. Altered on the smallest, most minute level to a substance so hard no material on earthland could break him. It did nothing to stop the anger. The agony.

Gajeel bent down so that his eyes were level with hers, "Hibiki will take the bastard to the goddamn Council. He will report on the 19 people your brother killed. As you order. I promise _I_ will not kill the fucking asshole." His teeth, his sharp teeth clenched, "Now promise _me_ that you will not die." His voice was stern, but the words were a plea. "Promise me."

_'I will not die.' _Her mouth twisted, and he suspected she was reaching for a smile. Didn't quite pull it off, but he was not great in that department either, so who was he to judge? '_Once upon a time, Gavin McGarden was all I knew of love.'_

She touched the blue line that passed over her lips, and then put those same fingers to the corner of his mouth. '_He was all I knew of love, but I was nine, then, and I had very little education. I learned. Years went by and I learned so much more. About life and people and love. Now, I know a great deal about love. Its colors and textures and flavors and music and power. The way it embraces people. I know that today, what I know best about love, is you. I never want you to be unhappy. _

_'I am the god of language,'_ his mind tickled with what was likely laughter, '_and my words are truth. I love you, Gajeel Redfox. I love you, and I love our guild, and I love this world we share._

_'I promise I will not die.'_

_x_

* * *

**Author's Note:** The end.

I must say, I'm sort of sad. I had planned out a tiny bit of a new story that had Metalicana as Gajeel's mom (not father, as usually portrayed, even by myself) to sort of support my position of Gajeel as a lady lover, lol. He needs a harem. And it needs to be based in his contrasting love and deep feeling of betrayal of and by his mother.

But as Gajeel is likely going to give birth to an over-80 parent-dragon soon, as well … gunna have to table that.

So, now I'm looking at doing a LaLu bit, but no promises. Shit is _crazy_ right now, IRL. (Or maybe Naxus... Natsu has _such_ a hard on for Laxus, no kidding.)

ANYHOW! Hope you enjoyed _HAWK_. I'm honestly still not sure how I feel about it, but I am so grateful for all the positive feedback and support I received from you readers. Each and every review touched my heart. :) Hope y'all have a great day/week/month/year! 'Til next time!


End file.
